A Normal Life
by NachtcGleiskette
Summary: All they wanted was to settle and have a normal life. But choices come with consequences, however unfair they may seem. A sequel to Living a Life Unexpected.
1. Chapter 1

Moira held the infant close to her, smiling down at her pinched face. A tiny hand was clutching to her finger, an equally tiny tail wrapped around her wrist. "Hello my love. Welcome to our world."

Time had been kind to her family. They'd settled into the new home quickly and it was wonderful to have enough space for them all. Finally the children had their own rooms, which meant she and her husband had their own room and space. It was wonderful to be able to have privacy with Azazel for the first time in what felt like far too long. The family felt perfect, everything had been settling and the job was going well as well. A spanner had to be thrown into the works, in the form of the tiny girl she now held in her arms. They'd not planned for another child yet, especially with Moira's job, but all the newfound privacy led to plenty of opportunity which led to a surprise pregnancy.

She could hear a commotion outside, surely her husband wrangling the children to come and meet their new sibling. The door opened and Christine bounded in first, her hair in lopsided pig tails. Clearly Azazel's talents fell short of doing hair. "Mommy!" the near three year old pulled against her father's hand, where he held her tightly.

"Calm, printsessa," he told her.

Kurt followed right behind, moving cautiously to the bed side. Azazel lifted Christine up so she could see. Moira moved the blanket the baby was swaddled in aside so the others could see her.

"She's so tiny," Kurt mused, and Moira was reminded of when he met Christine nearly three years ago.

"Kurt, Christine," Moira addressed her children. "This is Cynthia. Your new sister."

"Cyntia," Christine repeated.

"Cynthia," Kurt told his sister. "Her name's Cynthia." He moved closer to get a better look at the baby. "She's pink."

She was, in fact, an inhuman pigment. Her skin seemed to fair closer to her father's color, though paler. Less red, more pink, a magenta almost. Unlike her sister, she was adorned with a head of black hair, though had inherited her mother's brown eyes. Moira watched as her blonde haired, blue eyed daughter moved close to her brand new little girl and found herself musing over genetics. How two people could produce such different children.

Azazel had sat beside her, wrapping one arm around her, his other around Christine in his lap. She smiled at him and both her girls in their laps, then frowned at the missing person. Kurt was at the end of the bed, staring at them oddly.

"Come sit with us, angel," she called to him, shifting slightly to make room.

"No," he said, looking away. "Gonna go play."

She watched after him as he left, her worry growing. He'd been so excited for so long about the new baby, what had changed? Cynthia interrupted her with a small cry, and Moira shifted her to feed. She turned herself back to face Azazel, but his attention was completely on the girls. "Alek, Kurt," she started.

"He is ok," Azazel told her. "Will talk to him later." His hand laid gently on Cynthia's head, a smile on his face as he watched her feed. "Like your sister, printsessa?" he turned to Christine.

The girl nodded, cuddling close to her father. "Baby."

~&Q~

It had taken a few days to grow accustomed to the new baby in the house, but finally they were able to gain a schedule that allowed for Moira to have a moment with their son. She sat in his playroom, Azazel watching the girls in another room, to be sure they'd have some time. "Hey angel."

"Hey Mom," he replied, looking down at his toys.

"What're you playing with?" she asked him.

"Lego," he told her.

"Ahh, I see. You're building a new house?"

Kurt nodded.

She didn't want to beat around the bush, so decided to just go into it. "What do you think of your new sister?"

"She's ok," he said.

"You have a very important role, you know," she told him. "You're the big brother to two little sisters. That's very important. They're going to need your help to protect them."

"I will," he replied. "Cynthia's cute. She kinda looks like Dad."

"She does," Moira said.

"And Christine looks like you," he continued.

"Yes," Moira agreed.

"And," he paused, taking in a breath. "Mom, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, my love, anything," she shifted to the ground, wincing a bit in pain from the recent birth.

"Why am I the only blue one?" he sighed.

Moira felt side blinded by the question. It was something that was bound to come up eventually, something they should have prepared for, but part of her never wanted to have this conversation. In her heart, Kurt was her son thoroughly and she hated to think of where he came from. At the same time, he deserved to know the truth. Though, she still wasn't sure exactly how to approach it.

"Well, love, we're all made different. It makes us special," she attempted to skirt around the issue.

"Oh," he responded. She watched his seven year old brain try to wrap around the concept. "If I had a brother, would he be blue?"

"I don't know," Moira answered.

"I wanted to have a brother," he told her, continuing with his toys. Moira was relieved by the change in subject.

"I know you did, angel," she moved over to him and placed a kiss on his head. "But you have two wonderful sisters. That's very special."

"I guess," he responded. Moira was about to continue when she heard a cry from the other room. It was feeding time for Cynthia. "We'll talk more about this later, ok angel?"

"Ok," he replied. Moira smiled sadly at him and left the room.

~&Q~

"Moya zvyozdochka," Azazel held Cynthia close to him, moving to sit in the bed with Moira. The other two had been put down, and now it was their time to spend with their youngest, who they hoped would go to sleep as well as her siblings. "She is so beautiful."

Moira smiled as she gazed on the infant. "She is. She takes after you so much."

"Is beautiful like her mother," Azazel responded. "Only have color from me. Her beauty from you."

She laid her head on his shoulder, watching Cynthia's tired eyes dart between them. "She's getting to know us. Hello my beauty." The baby let out a little yawn and then snuggled into her father. "We make good babies, Alek."

"We do," he smiled at the infant. "Good girls. No boys yet."

"We have Kurt," she told him.

"Yes, but is different," he started. Moira picked her head up to face him.

"We have to talk about something," she began. Azazel's eyebrow raised. "Kurt's begun asking questions."

"Questions?"

"About him. Why he's the only blue one," she told him. "I don't think he's putting it all together yet, but we need to find a way to talk to him about it."

"About what?" Azazel countered.

"Where he came from," she responded. "Who his real mother is."

"_You_ are his real mother."

"Alek," Moira started. "I didn't give birth to him. He deserves to know the truth."

"Nyet," Azazel shook his head. "We tell him nothing. Never want him to know about _her_. You raise him, love him, his whole life. You _are _his _only _mother. We never talk about her."

"Alek," she began.

"Nyet!" he was growing angry, and the infant in his arms began to whimper. "We never speak of this again. _Never_. If you tell him-" Azazel fixed her eye with an angry glare.

She shuddered slightly under his look. She'd never been on the receiving end of this glare, but it was terrifying. Cynthia had now begun to cry and Moira moved to retrieve her from his arms. He held her close, not letting her go and keeping his eye fixed on her. "Alek, give her to me."

After a moment, he relented and Moira took the baby. Cynthia calmed in her arms. Azazel stood and stalked to the other side of the room. "Am going out. Be home soon." And disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

~&Q~

And we're back! I had mentioned I was working on a sequel, and I am enough into it that I feel confident posting. I'm not sure if this will be updated with the frequency of the last one. Currently I am on vacation, but I will be joining a ship again in May so we'll see.

Anyhow, reviews are love!


	2. Chapter 2

Azazel had returned home hours later without a word. They hadn't spoken of Kurt's original parentage since, but Moira knew the conversation wasn't over. It would come up one day, and she knew the longer they waited to address it, the more it would hurt him in the long run. For now, she let it go, but it wasn't forever.

Otherwise, things had been going well. Kurt warmed up to his new sister and Christine was absolutely in love. As a family, they were adjusting well to being five instead of four. Cynthia was doing very well, she was so much stronger than Christine had been when she was a newborn. By her second month, she was already starting to show less interest in breastfeeding. It saddened Moira, but at the same time meant she could go back to work sooner.

Work, however, was eager to have her back. She'd been spending a lot of time on the phone with the colleague who had taken her classes, giving them guidance and advice. She didn't mind, she really loved her coworkers. They'd been incredibly supportive of her, even throwing her a small baby shower before she went on leave. Moira had been very tight lipped about her family, for obvious reasons, but could not hide the fact that she was pregnant from them. This was the first of her children they knew about, and she didn't want them to know anything else. They'd been burned by people they trusted before, and she wasn't going to let it happen again.

While she loved being home to spend time with her family, by the time Cynthia was three and a half months, she started getting anxious to return to work. Azazel wanted her to stay as long as possible, she knew, but he also knew her well enough not to push it. Moira had made the decision to wait until Cynthia was six months, and she promised to stick to it, as antsy as she was.

Today was a decidedly lazy day, Azazel having taken the older children out to swim in a nearby lake, leaving only Moira and her youngest. There was something special about getting alone time to spend with each of her children that she cherished, though lately she knew she spent most of her time with Cynthia. Kurt was old enough to be pretty independent, but Moira worried that Christine could grow jealous. She remembered how it had been when she was an infant and Kurt's jealousy issues, though so far Christine was enamored with her sister. Moira made sure to set aside time each day to spend with both older children alone, and hoped it would keep issues from arising.

Currently, Cynthia was comfortably snoozing after just having fed, and Moira took the opportunity to pull out a book she'd been trying to finish for months now. She fell into the pages, letting the fantasy consume her, until she was shaken out of it by a knock on the door. Moira turned to the door nervously. They'd never had unexpected visitors, the house was so far from anything, no one ever ventured into the area. She was alone in the house with a baby, and began to sweat at the possibilities that may be on the other side. Had they been found?

There was another knock and she stood, heading into a hall closet. Reaching above the shelf she lifted a pair of keys off a hook, then used them to open the dusty trunk hidden at the back. She lifted one of Azazel's old daggers and held it close behind her back as she approached the door. As her hand reached to the knob, a familiar voice on the other side spoke up.

"You have nothing to fear, Moira," it said. "You can put the knife away."

She took a deep breath and pulled the door open, Charles Xavier greeting her. "It's been too long," he gave her a small smile.

"Charles," she smiled back nervously, the hand holding the dagger relaxing and falling beside her. Her eyes traveled to the man who stood beside him.

"This is James," he introduced. "My traveling companion." The man stood silently, tipping his head slightly at Moira.

"Well," Moira felt at a loss for words. It had been over five years since they'd seen each other, and so much had happened. She stood aside to let them in. "Come in."

Charles wheeled himself into the house, James tailing behind. "Do you want something to drink?" Moira asked as she went to put the dagger away.

"This isn't a social call, Moira," Charles told her.

"Oh?" she came to the couch and took a seat. "What brings you then?"

"I've been trying to track you down for a while," he began. "It seems that Azazel has become better at evading Cerebro. Though it's often difficult to pin down a teleporter." He paused. "I'm sure you are aware of the massacre at your old place of employment."

Moira was silent. Charles stared at her a moment before going on. "Officially, you've been declared dead, though you were never found," he told her. "Obviously, that's not the case."

"It's a long story, Charles," she began. "One I really don't want to get in to."

He held up his hands. "It's not my place to judge here, Moira. Though I can hardly say I'm surprised."

Her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

Charles leaned forward in his seat. "Do you remember the night at the CIA years ago? I certainly do. The bodies crushed against pavement, sliced and broken. The kind agent who wanted nothing more than to help us, a casualty of a war he had no place in."

Moira shifted uncomfortably at the memory. "This has nothing to do with that, Charles. They are entirely different circumstances."

"Different scenarios played out nearly identically by the same man," he continued. "As I said, Moira, I am not here to pass judgment."

"Then what exactly are you here for?" she asked indignantly. "You have no idea, _no idea_, the circumstances which lead to the outcome at my CIA base. None. Yet here you are lecturing me on something you know absolutely nothing about."

Charles sighed. "I'm here, Moira, to warn you. You've been declared dead, but the powers that be know it's not the truth. And they're looking for you and Azazel."

Moira paused. This wasn't exactly news, she knew that there must be someone looking for them after all that had happened. It was why her place of employment knew her as Moira Wagner. That was all anyone knew of her. That Charles had been able to find her was worrying, though he had technology beyond the CIA. What was to say, however, they wouldn't catch up? She felt a chill go down her spine at the thought of her family in their hands again.

"We've worked to hide," she began. "We just want to be left in peace."

"How can you-" Charles stopped midsentence at a small cry coming from another room. He turned his head in the direction, then back to Moira, wide eyed.

Moira excused herself to fetch her daughter. "There there, lovely," she pulled Cynthia into her arms and the infant calmed momentarily. She wasn't hungry, but she also wouldn't be going back to sleep. It made Moira uneasy, the thought of introducing her family to Charles and this other gentleman, especially under the circumstances that had him here. Yet another part felt guilty. Charles had been one of her closest friends, he was her son's uncle. Did that not make him her daughters' too?

She stepped back into the other room, holding the infant close. With each step toward him, Charles' eyes seemed to widen. Moira sat beside him, holding the baby at an angle so he could see her. "This is Cynthia."

He seemed speechless, simply staring at the tiny girl. His hand moved to rub the side of his face and after an eternity he looked back to Moira. "Cynthia?"

She nodded.

Charles continued to stare, and Moira was growing uneasy over the way he looked at her daughter. "You-" he stuttered. "You have a daughter."

"I have two," she filled him in. "Christine is three." She moved closer to him. "Do you want to hold her?"

He nodded slightly and Moira shifted the baby over, the tail transferring from her arm to his. Cynthia stared up at the man who now held her, blinking sleepily. "This-" he paused, seeming unable to get the words out. "This is real."

Moira quirked a brow at him. "What?"

"This is real," he repeated. "You and- lord, Moira I knew but I didn't know. I knew but I didn't want to believe it really was. I thought you-" he paused. "I don't even know what I'm saying. You, Moira, you and Azazel have children."

"We're married," she told him. His eyes seemed to grow wider at that.

"I feel stupid," he began. "I feel stupid that this is surprising to me. I've known since you came to me to find him, yet I have not wanted to accept it."

The way Charles spoke made Moira all the more uncomfortable. His reaction confused her, it wasn't as if Moira had hidden her relationship with Azazel. In fact, she recalled discussing it with him way back when. Yet he still seemed surprised to find her raising a family with him.

"I'm sorry," he started. "I'm sorry. I'm being silly." Charles turned back to the baby in his arms. "She's beautiful, Moira."

Moira was about to respond when a soft implosion of air sounded in the other room. Christine came running out first "Mommy!" She was waving a flower in her hand, but stopped in her tracks at the two men in the room. Kurt and Azazel followed behind. There was an odd sound coming from James on Azazel's arrival, and Moira's eyes widened at the spikes that seemed to sprout from his knuckles. Azazel had spied it as well and immediately teleported himself between the man and his family. James lifted his hands as if to attack, and Moira found her breath caught in her throat.

But nothing happened. Both James and Azazel stayed still, staring each other down in preparation of attack. "Enough," Charles ordered. "We're not here for any trouble. James, put them away." On the next beat, both men moved again, James withdrawing his claws. "Thank you."

Azazel looked between the two men then to his wife. His eyes narrowed as he spied his youngest in Charles' arms. "What is this?"

"I apologize," Charles began. "I came uninvited into your home. My intention was never to cause any trouble." The small infant began to whimper, and Moira knew it was time for her to eat. She retrieved her from Charles' arms and turned to her husband.

"Azazel," she addressed him carefully, knowing better than to use his name in front of company. "Take her to get a bottle please?"

He took his child into his arms, but his eyes still slid to the other two men. "I want them to leave, Moira."

"I know, love," she whispered. "Just give me a minute, ok?"

He nodded once and then took the girl into the other room. "Kurt, Christine," he called. "Come with." The two children followed after their father, their eyes lingering on the men in the room as they left.

"You have a family," Charles observed with a small smile.

"Yes," Moira responded. "A family I will do everything in my power to protect."

"Kurt has grown so much. How old is he now, six?" Charles continued, still watching after where the children had left.

"Seven," Moira told him.

"Seven," he repeated. "My God, has it been that long? And the girl, the middle one. She looks so much like you."

Moira nodded. "Charles, I think it best if you go."

He nodded. "Right," he began to turn his chair, James following behind. "As always, it was a pleasure to see you Moira," he said. "And please, heed my warning. Be careful."

"We will," she leaned to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Be well."

Charles smiled sadly at her and then he was out the door. There was a finality in this goodbye that was tangible. Moira wasn't sure if they'd ever see each other again. The idea made her sad.

She closed the door then walked into the other room, finding her husband feeding their youngest. "Where are the kids?"

"Outside," he told her. "Playing in back."

Moira moved to the window and caught a glance of Christine chasing after Kurt. It made her smile.

"Why was he here?" Azazel interrupted her moment.

"He came to warn us," she told him. "Apparently the CIA is still looking for us. He wanted to be sure we knew."

"How did he find us?" Azazel shifted Cynthia to his shoulder, placing the bottle on the table.

"How does he find anyone," she responded. "He has his ways. He found you when I lost you." Moira came to sit beside him.

"I work hard to find us safe place. Don't like when people can just find us," he told her.

"I know," Moira placed her hand on his arm. "He came with good intentions. He was worried for us."

"Worried for you," Azazel corrected. He made a face as he absently patted the infants back. "I do not like how he looks at you."

She rolled her eyes and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "You have nothing to worry about."


	3. Chapter 3

"Look at this beauty!" Margali cooed as Cynthia was passed into her arms. "My goodness, aren't you gorgeous?"

Moira smiled at Margali, as Azazel set some drinks out for them. "I wish I could have come to meet her sooner," the woman continued.

"You come now," Azazel said, sitting beside his wife. "Is good."

"You're such a domestic now, Aleksandr," Margali said to him. "Raising your family. So different."

"Can I hold her?" Jimaine piped in, leaning against the couch to get a better look at the baby.

"In a moment, child," Margali told her. "Let me get to know her."

Jimaine sat back irritated, crossing her arms. Kurt pulled her off the couch, distracting her, to play with him. A few moments later the two children ran out of the room.

"Stefan," Margali called to her oldest, who sat in the corner immersed in a book. "Come meet your new cousin."

He rolled his eyes and stood, snapping the book shut. "She's not my cousin," and walked out of the room.

Margali shook her head. "I am so sorry. He's been so moody of late. Becoming a preteen I suppose."

Moira watched after the boy as he left, something about this attitude seemed off. Stefan was always a strange child, but there was something else there that Moira couldn't quite put her finger on.

Margali's attention went back to the baby. "Promise your aunt Margali that you'll always be a good girl."

"How has traveling been?" Azazel asked.

"Long," she replied honestly. "Every year I wonder if it's time to settle in one place, but by the time the winter's over I can't imagine staying another day." She turned to Moira and Azazel. "You ought to join us one season."

This had been an open invitation for years, and Margali tended to ask about it quite often. Moira waved her hand. "I can't imagine traveling with three children. It's hard enough having them all in one place."

Margali smiled, then her face turned serious. Moira quirked a brow and looked to her husband. The other woman stood and Azazel did as well, accepting Cynthia as she was passed over. From outside, there was a sudden crash and the sound of crying. Moira jumped out of her seat and ran into the yard after her son's cries.

"Kurt!" she ran to his side, where he lay clutching his arm at the base of a tree. She knelt beside him, putting one arm around him. "Let me see, angel."

He cried loudly as she pulled his arms apart, wincing at the odd angle his wrist took. It was clearly broken. "Oh angel," she held him close, looking up to the other children. "What happened?"

Christine held back behind the tree, and Jimaine looked around oddly. "He went up in the tree but it broke," she reported. Azazel appeared beside them and Christine ran to him, holding tight to his leg.

"Oh my darling," Moira rocked him as he cried, trying to think of how they'd fix this. As she surveyed the scene, her eyes fell upon Stefan, standing far from the group, staring at Kurt where he lay in her arms. His mother walked up to him and said something, but Stefan made a face and walked away. Margali then turned and caught Moira's eye. She rushed over to them.

"Is it broken?" she asked.

"I think so," Moira replied, still trying to comfort the crying child.

"Alright, let's get him inside," she looked to Azazel who moved over and handed Cynthia to Moira, then hefted the boy in his arms, careful not to disturb his injury. Margali and Azazel both headed to the house, the two girls trailing close after them. Moira stood, her youngest in her arms, and her eyes fell on Stefan again. He stared at her in a way that made a chill go down her spine. She turned and followed them in.

~&Q~

Margali had helped to set Kurt's arm, and now the boy lay asleep. Moira sat beside him, brushing her fingers through his short hair. Her poor little boy with this large plaster on his arm. She prayed it would be alright, none of them were doctors. Though what option did they have? It wasn't as if they could take him to a hospital.

She stood and gave him a little kiss on the head, moving out of the room and closing the door gently. As she walked down the hall, she passed Christine's room and noticed the girl playing alone. "Hey beauty. What're you up to?"

"Play Barbie," she replied, arranging the dolls around her.

"Why don't you go play with Jimaine and Stefan?" she suggested.

The girl gave her a look. "No."

Moira sat beside her. "Why not? They're your friends."

Christine shook her head. "No. Stefan scary. He say bad thing."

Her brow furrowed. "What did he say?"

They were disturbed by a little knock on the door. "Sorry if I'm interrupting," Margali said. "I just wanted to say goodbye."

"Goodbye?" Moira stood. "I thought you were staying the weekend."

"That was the original plan," she moved to give Christine a kiss on the head. "But something's come up. I'm sorry."

"If it has anything to do with Kurt," Moira began. "It was an accident. He'll be fine in the morning."

Margali shook her head. "It's complicated. But it's been so wonderful visiting." She gave Moira a smile. "I'm grateful I was able to come meet the newest member of the family. You and Aleksandr are so blessed."

"Thank you," Moira looked to Christine who still played, and walked with Margali downstairs, where Jimaine and Stefan waited. Jimaine had an irritated look on her face.

"Mom, do we have to go?" she asked, her arms crossed.

"Say goodbye to Moira and Aleksandr, children," Margali addressed them. Jimaine dutifully gave them each a hug, but Stefan hung back. "Stefan."

The boy gave them each a look then turned away, heading out the door. Margali took a deep breath and watched after him worriedly, then turned back to them. "I'm sorry about him. He's-" she paused. "He's not himself. He's been going through some," she paused again. "Changes."

"It's alright," Moira said to her, noting that Azazel hung back with his arms crossed. She gave Margali a kiss on the cheek. "Come back soon."

"We will," Margali smiled sadly.

~&Q~

Kurt was upset when he woke up the next day to find Jimaine gone. He was also antsy and irritated by the cast on his arm. Moira tried to make him as comfortable as possible, and at least he wasn't in as much pain. Seeing her baby in pain was more than she could bare.

After a few days, Kurt had grown used to the cast. Moira still had to stay on top of him to be careful, but she was happy his healing was going well. Though they wouldn't know how well it healed until the cast came off in a few weeks.

Fall was winding down, a chill starting to hit the air. Moira sat on the front porch with Cynthia, watching as Azazel and the two older children raked and piled leaves. The children loved it, loved jumping into the piles. Though Moira found herself worrying over Kurt hurting his arm further.

Her husband finished the final pile and put the rake aside, laughing as Christine fell flat into it with a squeal. He walked to the porch and took a seat beside her, taking her hand. "Nice day, da?"

Moira nodded, her eyes on the children, specifically Kurt. "I hope he doesn't hurt himself."

"He is boy. Boys get hurt," Azazel bent to lift slumbering Cynthia from her carrier. "You'll be joining them soon, eh? Running and playing with your brother and sister."

Moira leaned onto his shoulder. "Don't rush it, love. Let's enjoy each step."

Azazel nodded and kissed her head. "Of course."

They watched the children a few moments, then Moira had a niggling thought. "What do you think is up with Stefan?"

Azazel shifted uncomfortably. "What you mean?"

"He seemed so distant. He's never been the warmest child, but he was so cold," she told him.

"Like Margali said, he is going through things," Azazel replied.

"Yes," Moira agreed. "I don't know, though. Maybe it's something more than just hormones? Christine even commented on how he was being."

Azazel lifted a brow, turning to Moira seriously. "What Christine say?"

"She said he was scary. She didn't want to play with him," Moira said. "I don't know if he did something _to _scare her, but she picked up on something."

Her husband let out a breath, closing his eyes. "He will not come here again."

Moira's brow furrowed. "Alek, that's not what I mean. He's practically family."

"No," Azazel turned to her. "He is dangerous. Margali and I already discuss. Not forever, just until all is figured out."

"What needs to be figured out?" Moira asked. Azazel shifted uncomfortably, moving Cynthia from one shoulder to the other. She'd been with him long enough to know what was going through his mind. "Alek, what are you keeping from me?"

He shifted again. "Is not mine to tell."

Moira turned fully to face him. "What?" Her mind turned over, then the most obvious answer came up. "Is Stefan a mutant?"

He slid his eye to her. "No," Azazel began. He took a breath. "Margali is sorceress. From long line, many generations back."

She shifted again, giving him an incredulous look. "A sorceress? Like a witch?"

"No, not like witch," he clarified. "Witchcraft is practice. Sorcery is in blood. Stefan and Jimaine have inherited too."

This seemed too off the wall to be real. Magic? Sorcery? Though, if there was anything the last ten years of her life had taught her, it was to keep an open mind. "Ok, so the children are sorcerers as well."

Azazel nodded, shifting their daughter again. "There are many types of sorcery based on family it is in. The type in Margali's family is known to be hard on boys. Her brother was driven crazy," he paused. "Was why she sought out normal human to marry. To hope her children wouldn't inherit magic." Azazel sighed. "She is very worried now about Stefan. Working very hard to help him stay ok."

"That's horrible," Moira frowned. She couldn't imagine being up against something so difficult in regard to her children. They faced challenges in that they were mutants, but at least they were healthy. Her heart went out to Margali.

~&Q~

As always, review please!


	4. Chapter 4

Her mind was on Margali for a while after. She'd grown close to the woman over the years, considering her a sister. She wished she could be there for her in this, but her responsibility was to keep her children safe and if Stefan was as dangerous as Azazel believed, they had to keep their distance.

Cynthia hit her sixth month, and Moira began to get ready to return to work. The holidays were upon them, so she put it off only a bit so her family could be together for the season. Afterwards, she'd be returning to the workforce. Hopefully Cynthia wouldn't give her as much trouble as Christine had when she was an infant.

The children, as always, were excited by the coming holiday. She'd done some shopping, picking out the items on their lists, though she knew that Azazel was doing his own and he tended to go overboard. No matter how many times she told him, he always indulged their children.

As the holiday came closer, Moira was surprised by a delivery to the house. It was incredibly rare to ever have anyone come out this far and Moira usually picked up any mail at the local post office. She carried the large box into the kitchen, Azazel raising a brow as he fed Cynthia. "What is this?"

"I don't know," she said, turning it over. Her eye spotted a label. "It's from Charles."

Azazel made a face and turned back to his daughter. Moira pulled the box open and smiled as she pulled out three wrapped packages. "He sent gifts for the kids. How sweet." She placed them back in the box. "We'll save them and put them under the tree for Christmas."

Her husband grunted, shifting uncomfortably. "Don't know."

Moira raised a brow. "Don't know what?"

"We are done with this," he told her. "Done with him, all that. Why keep door open?"

"What does that mean?" Moira countered. She crossed her arms. "Alek, I know you don't like him, but he's done a lot for us. He's my friend, almost family. Why would we shut this door?"

"We don't need him," he replied. "We have our family. We have our friends."

"We have _your _friends," she told him. This had been something weighing at the back of her mind, though she'd yet to let it come out. "He's my last friend, Alek, my only friend. The only person left over from my life before, why can't he be a part of my life?"

"Why you need him a part of your life?" he glared at her. "You have me, your family. Why you need him?"

"Why do you need Margali?" she glared back. "This isn't fair. I'm supposed to let go of everything and everybody for you, but you can have all your old relationships? How is that right?" Moira crossed her arms. "When I bound my life to yours, it wasn't at the expense of the life I had. It's not fair to ask me to give up everyone I held dear."

"You not hold me dear? Our children?" Azazel shifted Cynthia to his shoulder.

"Don't do that," Moira pointed at him.

"Do what?"

"Make this about something it's not. Make it seem like I don't care about our family," she responded. "You know how much I love our children. And you. This isn't about that."

"What this about then?" He held her eye, clearly not about to give it up.

Moira paused. "How can you not understand this? I don't know how I can explain it clearer."

"So stop explain," Azazel told her bluntly. "Drop it."

Her mouth hung open a moment, then she shut it tight. "I have sacrificed enough, Alek. I'm not giving up another thing. If you can't let me have this," she paused, taking a deep breath. "Maybe we need to reevaluate our entire relationship."

His eyebrows raised and his mouth opened to speak, but she turned and tore out of the room before he had a chance to say anything. She felt anger, intense anger at his thick-headedness. At the moment, she wasn't sure how hollow her threat was, could she actually consider leaving him? The idea was preposterous, but she also wasn't going to live by his rules alone.

Moira stormed out of the house and got into her car, deciding the best thing right now was for them to spend a few hours apart.

When she returned home, it was dark. The children had been put to bed and Azazel was asleep as well. She changed silently and slipped into bed, her husband turning and putting his arm around her. She stiffened slightly, still feeling from their argument that afternoon.

Azazel must have felt it, because he rose up a bit in bed. "You still angry?"

"I'm not angry," she snapped at him.

He sighed and laid down again, pulling her tightly to him, spooning up behind her. She wiggled a bit and turned to face him. "I'm not going to let it go, Alek."

Azazel sighed and rolled over. "Why this matter so much?"

"Why does it matter so much to you?" she countered. "I don't care if you never speak to Charles again. But I care for him and I don't want to just push him aside." Her husband was silent, and she sighed as well. "These are the sacrifices we make, as a married couple. We blend our families. Am I not worth this?"

He was silent a few moments, long enough that Moira grew concerned. "I feel pushed in corner. I wish never to have to see him again. But that wish is not worth tearing my family apart." He took a breath. "You want to see him, then we see him. I will not be friends with him. Our children can know him, but I don't want to."

Moira nodded. "That's fine." She let her finger intertwine with his as she took his hand. "That's enough."

~&Q~

I have some stuff coming up that's a bit racy, but I don't know that I want to change the rating of this fic to M. What do you all think?


	5. Chapter 5

As the holidays grew ever nearer, the fight fell even further behind them. Azazel made the grand gesture of suggesting they invite Charles for Christmas, and Moira knew how hard that was for him to do. She'd extended the invitation, not expecting much of a response, but was delighted when he confirmed he'd be there. He'd be coming alone as well, which made her all the happier. She wanted to have the chance to truly catch up with him entirely, without one of his latest pupils, partners or 'body guards' there.

Kurt finally had his cast removed, much to his relief and Moira's worry. They were doing this themselves, and she was concerned perhaps they had taken it off too early. She'd found numerous books that advised keeping it on a week less than what she did, though she wanted to just be sure and keep it on longer. Kurt, however, had other ideas and had become incredibly grumpy with it on. Moira found herself relenting and allowing it to be removed, though against her better judgment. Now she found herself on top of him all the time, making sure he didn't fall and land on it again.

When the holiday itself arrived, the children were manic. Azazel had gone overboard as usual, and Moira had given up long ago in arguing over it. As they got older, and the issues the children would face became more apparent, Moira's guilt over it made her want to overindulge them.

Moira set Cynthia in her play pen, heading into the kitchen to watch over dinner while Azazel picked up their guest. In a flash, the door opened, her husband and Charles entering. Charles smiled, though his face was a bit green. Moira rushed over with a glass of ginger ale.

"Teleporting is tough the first time," she handed it over with a smile.

"On the contrary," he took it from her and took a large swig. "It's incredible. Such a wonderful gift." He directed that at Azazel, who simply nodded in silence then headed to check on dinner.

Moira watched after him, then turned back to Charles. She leaned to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," he replied, pulling off his coat and hat, which Moira took to put away.

"Let's sit in the living room," she told him, leading him there. The children looked up from where they sat with their new toys as they entered. "Kurt, Christine, say hello to your Uncle Charles."

They greeted in unison, then turned back to their toys. Moira sighed, and Charles smiled. "They're wonderful." Cynthia squealed from her play pen and Charles wheeled over. "My goodness, you've gotten big!"

The little girl blew raspberries and giggled, her arms raised to the man. Moira lifted her and set her in Charles lap. "You have such a wonderful family, Moira."

She simply smiled in return, happy that he could be a part of it.

~&Q~

Dinner was cordial. Azazel played nice, though stayed mostly quiet. Charles filled them in on his school and the new things going on. It had been growing in leaps and bounds, new students joining all the time. Jean had stepped into a student teaching position, and Moira was happy to hear it. She'd liked the girl when she'd met her, and was happy to hear she was doing so well.

There seemed to be so much going on at his school, so much advancing, that Moira's life seemed so… simple. After dinner, Kurt and Christine rushed back to their toys, and Azazel put on coffee for the rest of them. Moira held Cynthia in her arms and listened as Charles discussed further advancements the school had undergone.

"We've been able to cultivate relationships with new industries," he told her. "Recently, Stark Industries has been helping us take the next step in our technology. In fact," he reached into his bag, producing four small boxes. "I wanted to show you the latest."

Moira quirked a brow and shifted Cynthia as she reached for the mug Azazel put in front of her. He sat beside her and took a sip, looking to the boxes as well. "What is?"

"These are absolutely state of the art," he told them. "They're called image inducers. They produce a holographic image over the wearer, creating any illusion they wish." He opened one of the boxes, taking out a disk suspended on a chain. "Here, let me show you." Charles leaned forward to slip the chain over Cynthia's head, then pressed a button on the disk. Moira nearly dropped the baby as her child was replaced with a perfectly normal infant.

Azazel stood up quickly, the chair scuttling backward against the wall. He opened his mouth, but instead of saying anything he stalked out of the room, and a second later Moira heard the sound of him teleporting away. She removed the chain from Cynthia's neck and the image dissolved, then handed it back to Charles. "I-" she was speechless. "I don't know what to say here."

Charles looked worriedly to where Azazel had disappeared. "I brought them because," he began. "I know how hard you are working to hide. I hoped that maybe they could be of use." He sighed. "There's one for each child and Azazel. You don't have to use them, but it's a contingency plan."

Putting it that way, it made sense. She took a breath and leaned closer to take a look at the device. "How does it work?"

~&Q~

So I will be changing the rating of this fic to M. If that's a problem for anyone, PM me and let me know. Favorite or follow, as this won't be showing up on the main page anymore!


	6. Chapter 6

The children had been put to bed and Moira had prepared the pull out sofa for Charles. The house was quiet, only disturbed by the return of her husband at an ungodly hour. She'd been unable to sleep, waiting up for him. The bedroom door opened loudly and she sat up, turning the light on. His eyes snapped to hers.

"Do not say anything," he started. "Do not defend."

"I won't," she told him.

"I am trying, Moira," he told her. "I am trying so hard. Right now, I want him out of my house. I held back, for you. I am holding back. You tell me, though, you tell me. What am I supposed to think about this?"

She shook her head. "Alek…"

"Don't use that name," he pointed at her. "We cannot trust these walls."

Moira took a breath. "Azazel," she began. "I had the same reaction you did. But we misunderstood."

"_We_ misunderstood?" his face pinched. "_My _children are beautiful, Moira. _My children _are perfect as they are. They do not need some machine to make them look different."

"I agree with you, Azazel," she told him, standing to face him. "I don't want them to think they have to hide who they are. You know I feel that way."

"Then how can you sit with that man and just let him do this?" he gestured largely to the other room. "Why is he still here?"

"It's not so simple, love, please listen to me," she took his hands. "He didn't bring them so they should hide who they are. They're for us to better keep hidden for those who want to hurt us."

Azazel shook his head, but Moira continued. "My first instinct was to decline them. Believe me, but when he brought that up," she paused. "How many little blue boys with tails are out there? How many men who look like you? If we're seen, somehow, they'll know who we are and how to find us. It's another way to protect ourselves. That's it."

He took a shuddering breath. "Moira," he squeezed her hands. "I fought my life because of how I look. I fought myself when I was young, over hatred I feel, I fought others later over hatred they feel. Now what? We give in?"

"Have you taken a second to consider that these devices could mean our children _don't_ have to fight?" Moira countered.

Azazel paused, letting out a breath. His head turned to the wall, which on the other side slept Charles, then back to her with a brow raised. "We drop it. For now."

Moira's own brow raised. She didn't expect him to give in on this so quickly. Her husband moved to her, putting one arm around her waist and pulling her in for a kiss. She reciprocated, happy the discussion was over but sure it wasn't over for good. He deepened the kiss, pulling her tight to him, his hands skirting under her shirt. Moira's own hands moved down his back to the base of his tail, and he growled into her mouth as she pressed onto it. Roughly, he pushed her back onto the bed, hard enough that the headboard hit against the wall. She felt exhilarated, they hadn't played rough in a while, what with the children and Moira having had a baby only six months prior. Really, ever since Moira had given birth to Christine, Azazel treated her just a bit differently during sex, easing up more than before. Though tonight looked like a different story, and she was happy for it.

He made quick work of his clothing, then grabbed the ends of her pants, pulling them off quick. She removed her shirt and he dove on top of her, burying his face in her breasts. Placing his hands on her hips, he didn't waste any time, thrusting into her hard. The headboard hit the wall again and Moira moaned, then gave pause. She stilled, holding tight to Azazel. "Love, we have company."

"So?" he panted flippantly, continuing to thrust against her. The harder he worked her, the less she cared about the fact that Charles was literally on the other side of the wall their headboard was banging against. At very least, she bit back her moans.

Azazel's pace quickened, as he leaned in to nibble her breast. She gasped, but still tried to stay quiet. He rose over her with a smirk then withdrew from her, working his way down her body. When she felt his breath on her, the touch of his tongue to her clitoris, she knew exactly what he was doing. He _wanted_ Charles to hear.

She was about to stop him when he dove in, literally, and she couldn't bite back this cry. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him tight to her as he found the spots he'd grown to know very well the last seven years. "Oh, God," she panted. "Yes, right there!"

He doubled his efforts, rewarding her for every cry, every moan. There was no fighting this, not that she had any intention to at the moment. She let him bring her to the brink, her hands gripping tight enough to his hair to nearly rip it out. "Fuck, I'm going to come!" She hit her crescendo, loudly. Azazel seemed rather pleased with himself as he lifted himself over her again, his cock teasing her entrance. As she came back to Earth, she was reminded again of the company they had in the room next door, and she found herself praying he was a heavy sleeper. Though, she knew from experience, Charles was always acutely aware of everything going on around him, whether awake or not.

As much as she'd have loved to fuck Azazel for the rest of the night, to avoid awkwardness the next morning this'd have to be over soon. Maybe if it was done with quick, Charles wouldn't even realize it happened. Moira slid back from him moving onto her hands and knees to face him. His cock stood out and she grasped it with one hand, letting her tongue trace over the tip. Azazel gasped, his hand cupping the back of her head as she pulled him into her mouth as deep as she could. She worked her tongue over him in a way she knew drove him absolutely mad, and she knew would make him cum quicker than anything else. He groaned loudly, his other hand reaching under her to fondle her breast.

"Da, koroleva," he said loudly. "Suck my cock."

Her brow raised at him. He wasn't one for dirty talk. In fact, short of a few terms of endearment and appropriately placed Russian swear words, he hardly spoke during sex at all. Though he seemed to be making a show of it, and she realized he was consciously speaking in English.

"Fuck, Moira," his breathing began to pitch and she knew he was close. "I'm will cum…" With a loud groan, he unloaded in her mouth. She swallowed as it hit the back of her throat, then pulled his softening dick out of her mouth. Sitting back on the bed, she began to burrow under the covers.

"I know what that was, Azazel," she told him.

"What?" he burrowed under with her, pulling her tight to him. "I love my wife."

She sighed, turning her head into her pillow. As awkward as the morning would be, the night was pretty well worth it.


	7. Chapter 7

"Moooooommy."

Moira turned her head away from the voice, keeping her eyes shut. Just a few more minutes.

"Mommy moooooooommy mommy," the sing song voice of her daughter repeated. "Wake up time, mommy."

She kept her eyes shut, hoping Azazel would come get Christine and let her sleep a bit longer. After last night, she could use a late morning. A finger placed itself on her eyelid, attempting to peel it up. "Wake up, mommy!"

"Christine," she grabbed the girls hand, pulling it away from her face. "Not with Mommy's eye, darling."

"Mommy's awake!" the little girl smiled, then jumped up onto the bed. Moira was aware that she was not wearing anything under the blanket and pulled it tighter.

"Baby, go find Daddy. Mommy'll be out in a minute." The girl nodded and jumped back off the bed, rushing out of the room. As she did, her tail smacked against the wall, making Moira cringe. The girl didn't stop, so it couldn't have hurt much, but she just wished she'd be more careful.

She slipped out of bed and into a robe, before thinking twice and getting fully dressed. She could smell breakfast as she left the room, and found Charles sitting at the table with two of her children, holding a sweet conversation. Cynthia was occupied in her playpen, and Moira moved to pick her up. She sat with the girl at the table. "Morning."

Charles gave her an odd smile. "Morning," he gestured to Kurt and Christine. "They were telling me what Santa brought."

"Oh," she smiled at him, looking to her two. "Santa was very good to them this year."

Azazel entered the room from the kitchen, holding a plate of pancakes. Moira scowled at him, dressed only in a loose pair of pajama pants. He placed the plate down then moved to her, giving her a lingering kiss. "Morning koroleva."

"Morning," she replied curtly.

Kurt made a huffing noise. "Scooby Doo is on, can I eat in the living room please?"

"Be careful, don't spill," Azazel told him, handing him a plate of pancakes. The boy ran with them into the other room and they heard the television switch on.

Charles looked to Christine. "Do you want to watch too?"

She shook her head quick, looking down at her pancakes as her father passed them. Moira turned to Charles. "She's afraid of the monsters," Moira reached over to stroke the girls head. "But we talked about it, and monsters aren't real, right beauty?"

"Not real," Christine nodded.

"Are humans in disguise," Azazel added, taking a seat beside his daughter. "Is always case."

Moira glared at him. "Not always."

He lifted his hands in surrender to the argument, then took a swig of coffee. Moira began to dig into her breakfast, though Cynthia grasped at her fork each time she tried to use it. A silence fell over the table that was tangible. Charles avoided Moira's eye, and finally backed away. "I think I'll look in on Kurt."

Her head snapped to Azazel as Charles left the room. "He heard everything."

"Da," Azazel said, a smug look on his face.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head down. Cynthia looked up at her, grabbing her cheeks and making a happy noise.

"Married couple cannot be together in own house because of guest?" Azazel asked through a mouthful of pancakes.

She lifted her head to him. "That's not what this is about. You wanted to make him uncomfortable."

Azazel shrugged. "If he is uncomfortable then is his problem."

Moira rolled her eyes, standing to go into the other room. She sat on the couch beside where Charles was, setting Cynthia on her knee. Charles looked forward, at the television, not acknowledging her in the room. "How did you sleep?"

He smiled awkwardly at her. "Alright. Was a bit disturbed early this morning. The pull out was comfortable though."

She let out a breath. "I'm sorry if we-" she paused. "If we woke you."

He shrugged. "It's your house, Moira. I have no right to request how you behave in your own house."

"I know," she moved closer to him. "Charles, this visit hasn't worked out as I had initially planned."

"I figure," he responded. "I am aware your husband is not my friend. I don't think he has said more than two words to me since I came here. But I do care greatly for your family." He smiled as he looked to Kurt, the boy completely engrossed in his cartoon. "I don't have much of any family left, you know. My school is one thing, but really you are the only person I have outside of it." He reached out and squeezed her hand quickly, before withdrawing. "I don't plan on giving up on our relationship over a little….well…" he trailed off.

"Uncle Charles?" Kurt's attention had left the television. "Do you wanna play cars?"

Charles' face lit up. "If you'll show me."

Kurt nodded and ran into the other room to get his hot wheels. Cynthia began to fuss, so Moira stood to grab her a bottle. She smiled as Kurt returned with his shoebox, starting to explain which was which to his uncle.

~&Q~

Later on in the day, Azazel took Charles back to New York. The visit felt too short, but Moira knew the longer Charles stayed, the harder the situation would be between her husband and him, so she relented to the short visit. A part of her was irritated that he couldn't just get over himself long enough to allow her friend to visit with them, but then she also reminded herself of the compromise they'd made. Over time, she was sure, she'd be able to wear him down to the point where maybe he and Charles could share a conversation.

Just after the New Year, Moira returned to work. It was a welcome return, she needed her time away. Her first morning getting ready for work was bittersweet, mostly in that the children didn't have much of a reaction. Kurt, of course, was old enough to be alright with a day without his mother, and he and Christine had memory of when she'd worked before Cynthia was born. It was the infant's reaction that bothered her the most, which was nonexistent. Moira kissed her goodbye and the girl simply played with her toys, not even looking up. Of course, on the surface she didn't want a rehash of Christine when she'd first started working – the morning battle with guilt as the baby cried over her mother's abandonment. Though, in a way, it was better than indifference.

Azazel made up for that in his longing goodbye on her first day, assuring her how much she'd be missed. Leave it to her husband to fill in the gaps she barely knew she had. Though, on the drive to work she mused about her life before children, when she had no need or want for validation from anyone else. Even in romantic relationships. Suddenly, three children in, and she can be wrecked by a baby's snub. What the hell had happened to her?

When she arrived at work, she realized a new challenge. Everyone in the office was asking about the baby, wanting to know every little detail. She answered the questions as truthfully as she could omitting anything that would point to the fact that her daughter was a mutant. She was happy to gush a bit. The veteran mothers in her workplace were happy to pass on their advice to this 'new mother' and Moira felt slightly guilty that she'd never told them about her older children. Though still she kept them to herself, allowing everyone to believe that Cynthia was her first.

"You are lucky," one of her coworkers told her, after she shared the story of Cynthia's birth. "Usually the first is the most difficult. I was in labor with my first for almost fifteen hours."

Moira smiled uncomfortably, unable obviously to discuss the true labor of her first born, which literally lasted days before her water officially broke. "I suppose it's a gamble," Moira replied.

"Hopefully your next will be as easy!" another coworker chimed in.

"Oh, I'm not sure there'll be a next," Moira told her. "I think we're pretty settled."

The first coworker chuckled. "You say that now," she said. "Give it another few months. You'll start feeling it. Besides, it's criminal to raise a child without siblings."

The conversation just kept spinning into places Moira didn't need it to be. The clock saved her, in that a class would be starting in less than ten minutes, so she excused herself. As she made her way to the door, the biggest issue reared it's head. "Bring a picture tomorrow! We'd love to see the little angel."

A picture. How on Earth could she bring a picture of her pink baby girl with a tail? She felt a tightness in her chest as anxiety gave way to irritation, that she was party to a world that would not accept her children, no matter what, because of how they were born. She tamped down her anger, for now, and put on her façade for her class.

~&Q~

Looks like people are sticking with it even with the new rating :). I hope you enjoyed the last chapter. I have been working on some small vignettes from Azazel's point of view, which I may post when I get a bit further in this fic. Open to feedback! Would anyone like to see things from his POV?


	8. Chapter 8

She returned home to dinner cooking and three happy children. Kurt was working on homeschool work and Christine was sharing her dolls with Cynthia. Moira was delighted to see her daughters getting along so well. She greeted her husband then headed into the bedroom on a mission.

Pulling out boxes from under the bed, she began to go through their photos. This had been a long standing mission of hers, to put the children's photos into books and organize them. The only one who had a completed book of their first year was Kurt, Christine's book being half full and Cynthia's photos simply being in envelops and loose in the box.

She separated out all her photos of Christine, going through them one by one. Azazel appeared at the door, leaning against the jam. "What you doing?"

"They want to see pictures," she told him, going through each one. There _had _to be a few pictures where her tail wasn't visible.

"Pictures?" he sat beside her, picking up a few photos. "Of Christine?"

"Of Cynthia," she told him. "But I can't bring a photo of Cynthia. If I can find one of Christine without her tail, that would work."

Azazel sighed audibly and dropped the pictures down. "Don't think you should bring any pictures."

"How do I justify that?" she asked him. "They're all under the impression I'm a brand new mother. What brand new mother doesn't want to show people their baby?"

"One who is protecting them from being hurt," he told her.

"Yes, but part of protecting them is not letting people know why they need protecting," she replied. "I have to play the game, Alek, otherwise people will ask questions."

"Would be no questions if you didn't have job," he said under his breath. Moira dropped the pictures she was holding and turned to him angrily.

"That's what this is about? My job?" she glared at him.

"Moira-" he began.

"We discussed this, years ago. I thought you were ok with this!"

"_I _thought you were going to be done with," he replied. "We have three children now. And still you have to have job. When is family enough?"

"God dammit, Aleksandr!" she threw her arms up. "We've had this conversation more times than I can count, and you just can't bring yourself to see it from my eyes. This has _nothing to do _with our family. This has to do with _me. _You knew _exactly _who I was when we started this, before we had Christine, before we were married, and you chose to be with me. Why are you suddenly surprised that I am still the person I was when you met me?"

He shook his head. "Is liability. You are out there, where can be seen."

"That is _not _why you are upset," she pointed at him. "Did you expect me to just be a wife and mother and that's it? Should I just pull out the pearls and dish gloves? Get you your newspaper every morning, make you a martini every evening, and attach the vacuum cleaner to my hip?" Moira stood and crossed her arms, moving to face the corner of the room. "I've always been in control of my life, Alek. I chose when I wanted to become a mother, and I chose when I wanted to become a wife. I chose to be _your _wife because I thought you wanted to be my husband because you loved who _I _was. If you thought I'd suddenly drop everything and become your Stepford wife-"

"I did not ask for any of that," he countered coolly. "Think I am being _more _than fair. You work now, I don't. I take care of children and house. Is so wrong to want a _wife_? How you think it feels, that wife is more interested in going to work than being with family, that wife rushes home after first day back to work, her only mind on her coworkers?" He stood as well. "I miss you, all day, and all you can think about is bringing picture of baby for coworkers."

Moira rolled her eyes. "Is that seriously what you think?"

Azazel shrugged. "What am I supposed to think?"

Moira was about to respond when there was a cry from the other room. She took a few steps toward the door, but Azazel stopped her. "I will get her. You are busy, finish your important work." He left the room and she could hear him speaking softly to Cynthia, Christine chattering away at him as well. Moira moved to the door to peer at her family, Azazel sitting with the baby at the table beside Kurt, checking up on his work. For the first time, she felt out of place.

~&Q~

She'd decided to forgo the picture, for now, making excuses to her coworkers. Moira found herself filled with tremendous guilt when she was at work, and Azazel had been cold to her since their fight. She wasn't sure exactly what was going to fix this. She wasn't going to quit, that was a concession too far, but she wasn't sure, short of quitting, what would fix this.

It made her reflect on her relationship with her husband. From the first moment they shared a bed together, it had been a whirlwind. From zero to 60, quite literally. The things that had attracted her the most at first – his eschewing of traditional gender roles in a relationship – seemed to be up for debate now. It wasn't the only thing that attracted her, of course, there was much much more to their relationship than that. Though she was concerned with the turn around.

They tried hard to keep the current disagreement from their children, but Kurt caught on pretty quick. He was too old now to lie to as easily. Christine was caught up in her own world, and Cynthia was a baby, but Kurt was a smart kid. As soon as he asked what was going on, Moira knew they couldn't stall fixing it any longer.

As they lay next to each other in bed, silence hanging heavily, Moira finally broke it. "What do we have to do to fix this, Alek?"

He turned to her, propping his head up on his elbow. He didn't respond, just looked at her.

She propped her head up to. "I'm not leaving my job. But we need to overcome this. Kurt's noticed there's something going on. The last thing we need is our children worried about us."

"I am being honest," he started. "I want you to quit. I hate that you keep job. Want you home with us, with family, all the time." He reached over and stroked his hand up her side. "Want us to have another baby."

She put her hand over his, not surprised by his admission. He'd long ago told her his expectation for a large family, and she'd also long ago told him her limits. Though, at the time her limit was two and now they had three. She wasn't full on against having more children, but she wasn't going to start trying before the current baby outgrew baby-hood. "I want you to support me," she replied. "Understand why I need what I need, and understand that my job is not an escape from being your wife and our children's mother. It helps me to be a _better _wife and mother."

He sighed, pulling his hand away. She grabbed it before he could pull it fully from her. "Please," she could feel tears threatening in her eyes.

"Do you want another baby?" he asked her.

She paused, worried about how to respond. "It's not time, Alek."

"Why is it not time?" he asked her, pulling her to him. "Cynthia is old enough now." He nuzzled her neck. "We can do it. Have little boy."

Moira pulled back from him. "Alek," she started. She hated the way his expression changed. The idea of having another baby wasn't as terrible as she expected it to seem. She could envision her family, two boys and two girls. It wasn't horrible. But it also wasn't the right time. She put her hands on either side of his face. "Let Cynthia turn one. Then we'll consider it."

He let out a breath, looking away from her. She pulled his face up, trying not to lose his gaze. "We need to discuss the job, though. I'm staying."

"You stay," he sighed. "You do not show them pictures of our children. Do not talk about them. Let them know as little as possible."

"I don't know how feasible that is," she told him. "They're asking constantly."

Azazel held her eye fiercely, making clear what he was about to say was not up for discussion. "Then find other job. You need job, ok, I will not argue again. You can have job. But not at expense of our family security."

~&Q~

For those interested in Azazel's POV, I started a new fic for vignettes called Rose Colored Glasses!


	9. Chapter 9

From then on, things were better. Moira made the promise to keep their family quiet at work, as difficult as it was. She distanced herself from her most prying coworkers, keeping her head on her job only, and socializing very little. Part of her felt bad, they had been so supportive for so long, she hated giving them the cold shoulder. But her first priority was her family's safety, and the complacency she'd felt from the years they'd enjoy safely in hiding had to go away. That would only lead to a mistake that could cost them dearly.

Their relationship seemed to return to normal, Azazel the usual loving husband. Christine was on the verge of four, which got Moira and Azazel thinking of how to handle her schooling. They had the luxury of having already been through it with Kurt, and they had kept all the notes and lesson plans from him, though she was different. Kurt was a bit flighty when it came to school, but could be studious. Christine's head was perpetually in the clouds. She was very easily distracted. She was incredibly intelligent, Moira saw that. There were times when her observations seemed leagues ahead of her years, though for the most part she was all over the place. It worried both parents, though it was a challenge they were eager to take on.

Cynthia was getting closer to one, and it made Moira nervous about the promised discussion of another child. Though, were she honest with herself, the closer they got to Cynthia's first birthday, the more Moira seemed to like the idea of another child. Kurt really wanted a brother, and wasn't quiet about it. Still, they had other things to do before it could be considered.

Azazel had a big job offer, one he was on the fence about taking. The money was unreasonably good, and it would be relatively quick, a few days if he could get his target quickly. As much as Moira hated when he took these jobs, she encouraged it. She'd be a hypocrite to ask him not to work when she demanded to keep her own job. He hadn't worked since before Cynthia was born, and he spent a week training before leaving on the mission.

That, of course, left Moira alone with her three. She'd taken the week off, to be with Azazel for a day before he left and then to take care of the children while he was away. It was nice to have the time with her kids, and to take on the role that Azazel usually filled, giving Kurt his lessons. They'd started to ease Christine into schooling a bit, only giving her one or two things a day. So far it was hit and miss. Some things she latched on to, others she just couldn't grasp. Moira grew concerned about her oldest daughter, a concern that grew into guilt. Kurt didn't have the same issues, and the biggest difference between Kurt and Christine was their mother. Had she passed something on to her daughter that did this? Would they have the same issue with Cynthia?

She tried to put it all to the back of her mind as she rummaged through the back of her closet, trying to find a few more of Kurt's old lesson plans. In her search, she came across four boxes, the image inducers that Charles had given them. She had a sudden idea as she pulled them out, going into the other room. It was a gorgeous day, too pretty to spend indoors.

"Kurt, Christine," she called them, heading into the living room. The two looked to her and she beckoned them to join her on the couch.

"What's that?" Kurt asked, sitting beside her and pointing at the boxes.

"These are very special," she told him. "Uncle Charles gave them to us." She took out the one labeled for Kurt, slipping it over his head. "It's so we can stay safe all the time. Wanna see what they do?"

The boy nodded his head, Christine sitting on the floor in front of them. Moira grasped the disk on the chain and pressed it, her beautiful, unique little boy being replaced by an average looking human child. Christine's eyes widened and she jumped up. "Kurt?" her hands grasped at his arms, then pulled away.

Kurt looked down at himself. "This is cool!"

His sister's lip trembled and she ran out of the room. "Christine," Moira called after. She turned to her son, who was admiring himself.

"How'd it do that? Am I not blue anymore?" he asked.

"You still are," she told him. "It makes you look different." She was beginning to feel regret at showing him this, even more so as she could hear her daughter sobbing in another room. Moira gave her son a kiss on the head and left him to explore this new image, heading to find her daughter.

She opened the door to the little girl's room. "Christine, sweetie?" she called, looking around. The girl was wedged up against the wall beside her bed, her face red as she sobbed. Moira moved to her, gathering her into her arms. "Beauty, why are you crying?"

"I don't like that thing!" she told her mother. "It makes Kurt look wrong and I don't like it!"

"My love," she rocked the girl, holding her close. How could she explain it in a way the girl would understand? The more she tried to find the words, the more she realized there were no words. None that would be appropriate to share with her child. She was hit with the reality that her children had _no idea _what existed outside the carefully constructed world she and her husband had created. They would have no concept of why they'd need to wear something like that, to hide who they were, because they'd only ever been around people who already know, love and accept them. Moira realized that she and Azazel had built this safe cocoon around them, and while it kept them from harm, it bred naiveté. She wanted nothing more than to keep them from finding out how the world would see them, but one day they would. She couldn't protect them forever, but at very least she could prepare them.

Christine had calmed, her sobs becoming hiccups. Moira wiped her hand over the girls face. The beautiful girl she and Azazel had made. Of her three children, the only one who could pass, save for the tail. In the back of her mind, Moira had considered taking the children out, to the park, anywhere, wearing these image inducers to keep them hidden. What lesson would they learn? They'd have a fake experience that they'd have no idea wasn't the way it would always be.

"Is Christine ok?" Kurt's image induced self stood at the door. Christine took one look and sobbed again, burying her face in her mother's chest.

"Kurt, take it off," Moira told him, holding her hand out.

"Mom, I wanna play with it!" he whined.

"Take it off now," she demanded. Kurt whimpered and stomped, pulling it over his head and handing it to his mother. She pressed the disc to disengage it and then whispered to her daughter. "Look, beauty, Kurt's back to normal. No more crying."

The girl turned and took in her brother, wiping her own eyes. Her sobs calmed and she sat up in her mother's lap. She looked at the chain in her mother's hand and smacked it, looking to her mother angrily. "Never do it again!"

Moira let out a sigh as her daughter stood and left the room, Kurt following behind. The girl was right. These would find their way to the back of her closet again.

~&Q~

If you like it, review it! :)


	10. Chapter 10

A few days later, Azazel returned. Moira was on the fence about telling him about the image inducer incident, but Christine beat her to it. He was angry, and she didn't blame him. These were her children, she was their mother, but she had to admit there were things she was just not going to understand. As much as she wanted to think she could do anything for them, fix everything for them, these things in regard to their mutation were outside her realm.

He let the situation go, not letting it become a big fight. They seemed to be fighting so much lately, Moira was tired of it. She just wanted to be happy to have her husband home, after being away for those few days. He didn't return unscathed, a gash on the side of his face which she knew would become a new scar. It hurt her to see him hurt, but he played it off as if it were nothing.

They'd celebrated his return exactly as they knew how, now laying in bed together, Moira rubbing the side of his face, careful of the gash she'd stitched. "You're going to be one big scar," she told him.

"Scars are sexy," he responded, grabbing her hand to kiss her wrist.

"Who told you that?" she quirked a brow.

"I am scarred from many things," he pulled her in. "And you still married me."

"I didn't marry you _for _your scars," she told him. Her fingers traced his face, to the most apparent of the scars he had. He closed his eye as her finger moved over it. In the time they'd been together, she'd never asked where it was from. "You should be more careful."

Azazel snorted. "Is not such thing as careful in my job."

Her fingers moved to the new gash again. "How'd it happen?"

"Accident," he said. "When fighting with knife, was surprised."

"This is from _your _knife?" she asked incredulously.

"Fighting is not so clean, Moira," he told her. "Just because you win, does not mean you don't get hurt. Can get hurt easily with own weapon."

Her brow knitted as her fingers traced across his face again, to the large scar over his eye. "What about this one?"

He grew quiet, his hand taking hers and pulling it from his face. "Old story. Boring."

"I want to hear it," she replied.

Azazel sighed. "Was young. Just turned seventeen," he started. "Left caravan for first time. Margali wanted me to stay, but I couldn't. Needed to get out."

Moira pulled her pillow tighter under her head as she listened. This was a time in his life he'd had yet to really discuss with her.

"Didn't know where I was going or what would do. Was naïve. Wanted to see world," he paused. "Decided to try different places. South America. Australia. Africa. Was amazing. But more I traveled, less careful I was. Was so stupid. You know how it is when young. Invincible. Like nothing can hurt me. Was very wrong." He sighed, his eyes turning to the ceiling. "Found way to Romania. Very superstitious there. Played games…" he trailed off, then turned to Moira with a look of shame. "There was beautiful girl there. I wanted her. Watched her a lot. One day, waited until she was alone and teleported to her. She was so scared. Convinced I was devil. I let her think it. Don't know how I thought it would work," he shook his head. "She begged me for mercy, before I even do anything. Said I could have anything, _anything _if I just spare her. It wasn't fun anymore. She was crying and begging and I felt bad. So I try explain, I am not devil. I am man, just ordinary man. She's praying and crying still. Then suddenly we're not alone. Things are thrown at me, big man shows up with knife, threatens me. I try to explain, but he attacks, knife hitting my eye. Pain, so bad." Azazel closed his eyes. "I was so used to my life with caravan, where I am accepted, that this never even came to mind. Never thought could happen. I teleport away, back to my caravan. Sprained wrist, bruised and bloody, but worst is eye. Margali's mother stitched me up, but say that if knife is even centimeter over, I would have lost eye. I learned lesson that day."

The story mirrored so much Moira's recent revelation about their children. She traced the scar again, moving to place her chin on his chest. "We have to talk to our children, Alek."

His brow raised. "What you mean?"

"You got hurt because you didn't understand the world outside. You were naïve, you said it," she started. "We can't let our children grow up like that. We need to prepare them."

"They are young still," he started.

"They are," she agreed. "But it doesn't mean we can't have this conversation. And make a plan. Because the story you just shared, that will _not _be our children's story."

He shook his head. "It will not."

~&Q~

The story Azazel shared had cemented in Moira the need to start introducing their children to the reality of the world. However, it was a battle in her, because as their mother she wanted to protect them. There was no way to protect them and prepare them, and the day would come they'd venture out of the house on their own. She would be foolish to think she'd be able to protect them forever.

First, there was the matter of Cynthia's first birthday. They were two months away from it, but Moira wanted to start planning. She'd reached out to Margali, who was worried with the issues with Stefan. She's not made a commitment, but said she'd try. Moira hoped they'd make it. She'd reached out to Charles, and he had confirmed he'd save the date. On a whim, she sent a letter to Irene. They'd been in inconsistent contact the past few years, but she hoped to get a response. Kurt would be happy to see Marie.

A few of her coworkers tittered about it, knowing that her daughter's first birthday would be coming up. She'd still had yet to show any pictures, and they'd given up asking, though on occasion she'd hear a snide comment about her discretion. The friends she'd had at work were waning quick.

Spring was really taking hold, and it was nice to have some warm weather again. Azazel's face had healed, though it did leave a rather nasty scar. The children had inquired about it, but for now they were being kept in the dark about their father's profession. As far as they knew, Daddy fell down, which made Christine giggle to no end.

As it grew warmer, Azazel took on a few projects in the back yard. Their back yard opened up into immense fields, which the children loved playing in, though they seemed to venture further and further each time they did. They'd decided to give them a centralized place to play, so beside a large tree, Azazel was constructing a sand box. He'd already hung a tire from the branch, and the kids often fought over who would swing from it.

Today, both older children were outside helping their father on this venture. Cynthia sat by the back door, standing with the help of the wall and watching everything going on outside. Moira decided to take the time to do some lesson planning and was working at the table when a knock came on the door. Still something they were very unaccustomed to. She took a quick look outside at her family and then moved to the door, peeking out. The figure on the other side shocked her enough to throw the door open.

"You can't be that shocked," the blonde woman said.

"How did you find us?" she asked, moving aside to let her in.

"Do you really have to ask?" Emma tapped her head. "I'm here to see Azazel."

Moira paused. Babbling away, Cynthia crawled into the room to find her mother. Emma's eyebrow raised. "My goodness you two have been busy."

Moira rolled her eyes and grabbed her daughter, moving to the back door. "Azazel," she called to him. "You have company."

His eyes narrowed and he began to trek in, the children running ahead of him. Kurt zoomed in first, turning to his sister. "I beat you!"

"No that's not fair!" the girl whined. "Not fair!"

"Children, go to play," Azazel demanded. The two ran into the other room, pausing only slightly to see who was there.

"Lord you've been very busy. Are there any more hiding somewhere?" Emma asked.

Azazel's eyes slid to her. He smiled a bit. "Emma. What bring you here?"

"It's private, darling," she leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Is there somewhere we can talk?"

"She can hear," he indicated Moira. "I keep nothing from my wife."

"Yes well," Emma rolled her eyes. "Lord, Azazel, what happened to you?"

Azazel headed into the kitchen and returned a few moments later with a bottle of white wine and two glasses. He set them on table, as Emma and Moira both sat, Moira letting Cynthia to the ground to find her toys. He handed each woman a glass and sat himself.

"Look at you playing house. Who'd have thought the killer from a few years ago would be shackled by three children," Emma said after a sip. "If the men you've killed could see you now."

It was Moira's turn to roll her eyes. Emma loved to needle, and sometimes her attempts were far too transparent. Azazel didn't let her shake him. "What you want, Emma?"

"To catch up," she told him, looking down at his wine. "It's been a long time."

There was something in her voice that almost sounded sincere. Azazel smiled and leaned forward to put a hand over hers. "It has. Much has changed."

"Yes, for you," Emma replied. "I can honestly say I never saw all this in your future. Even when Mystique was pregnant."

"Neither did I," he said. Moira grew a bit uncomfortable with Mystique's name coming up. Azazel moved his hand to hers, giving it a squeeze.

"Lord, Azazel, you should thank everything that Mystique dumped your baby. I can't even fathom that woman raising a child," she scowled. "I know she's shacked up with some lesbian and a kid they adopted, but I also know she's rarely there. That woman," Emma shook her head. "Lost cause entirely. I have no idea why Magneto keeps her so close. Xavier did the right thing throwing her to the curb."

Azazel simply nodded, but Moira was confused about the conversation. Had Emma tracked them down and come all this way to talk about Mystique? She was about to say something when Azazel squeezed her hand. She looked to him and he gave her a look that told her to keep quiet.

"Anyhow," Emma turned her eye on Moira. "I never thought I'd say this, but you got a severe upgrade Azazel."

Moira felt like an object in this conversation, and it made her uncomfortable. Azazel sensed it, leaning in to Emma. "You did not come here to chat, Emma. I know you too well."

The woman let out a breath. "I did not." She glanced to Moira then back to Azazel, raising her brows. He nodded and she sighed. "I've been sent to find you. I have an opportunity for you."

"Am not interested," Azazel said, waving his hand. "Am retired."

"Like hell you are," Emma responded. "I can name your last five jobs, Azazel. This is without reading your mind, dear. If you think your work has gone unnoticed, you are mistaken."

"Is that it, you've come to warn?" he surmised.

"I don't need to warn you," she told him. "There's nothing that could be coming for you that you couldn't handle. I've come because I know you, _Aleksandr_."

Moira's eyes widened at the use of the name, and her head snapped to her husband. His eyes were on Emma. "Do not use that name."

"What, have I lost permission?" she asked him. "I didn't realize it could be revoked." Her gaze was icy and met Azazel's. It softened slightly. "I was sent because of our past. Because we were great friends once."

"Sent by who?" Moira chimed in. Azazel looked to her, then to Emma for a response.

She paused, eyes darting between the two. "Magneto. The brotherhood is getting back together."

Azazel shook his head. "As said, I am not interested."

"I think you will be in this," she told him. "Magneto has a plan, larger than any he has had before. Something that will change humanity."

"What is plan?" he asked.

"I am not at liberty to say," she told him. Her gaze roamed the room and fell on Cynthia playing in the corner. "What I will say, Azazel, is that you owe it to your family to take him up on it."

"It that threat?" his lip curled back angrily.

"Not in the slightest," she moved her hair off her shoulder. "Erik is building something huge."

Azazel shook his head. "I will not move on this. I am done."

Emma sighed sadly. "I wish you would. I think you will regret this decision," she stood, moving toward the door. "Well, I suppose it was nice to see you then, at least. I will let Magneto know your decision."

Moira stood as well, to see her out. Before Emma left, she turned to the woman. "I doubt very much you have any interest, though I will work to leave this option open for him. He may change his mind."

"I don't think so," Moira told her. She'd make sure he didn't. There was no way she wanted him involved with them again.

"We'll see," she replied coolly. "Remember the name Genosha. You might very well change your tune."


	11. Chapter 11

Azazel was bothered more than it'd seemed by Emma's visit. He'd opened up only a bit about his time with the Brotherhood, and even less about his time with Shaw. She'd seemed to reopen old wounds he'd held secret, and Moira was worried for him. However, he threw himself into being with his children, really focusing on them over anything else, though Moira noticed just a slight distance from Kurt. The boy didn't seem to notice so much, he was a very independent child, and it was more Christine who strived for her parents' attention.

A few months passed and so did Cynthia's birthday. Charles was the only person to attend, and while Moira understood why Margali couldn't she also couldn't help feeling a bit hurt. They'd never heard back from Irene, which Moira found puzzling but didn't consider too long.

It was hard for Moira to fathom how quickly time was moving, her baby girl now an entire year old. She wasn't speaking, though she had several words, but she'd already taken two very unsteady steps. The first two had been so much further behind in that regard, though Cynthia also had two older siblings that wanted to help her with everything. It was as if she was in a hurry to prove her independence.

With her new mobility came a new attitude. Kurt was her sensitive boy, Christine was her pretty princess, and Cynthia seemed to be the rebel. It was in her blood, both of her parents had been rebels in their own way, so it only seemed right one would follow in their footsteps.

As Cynthia was now becoming her independent self, the idea of having another baby weighed anew on Moira's mind. She'd expected Azazel to be on her about it the minute Cynthia turned a year, but he hadn't brought it up. As she ruminated on it, she found the idea more and more appealing. Her pregnancies were no picnic, but her babies were exceptional.

She propped herself up in bed as Azazel entered the room. "All asleep," he told her.

"Good," she smiled at him as he burrowed under the covers beside her. He moved to spoon her, but she turned to face him instead. Her hands roamed over his chest and made their way down.

Azazel's brow quirked. "What you doing, Moira?"

"We have work to do," she told him, then leaned in close to whisper in his ear. "I'm ovulating."

His eyes widened then he met hers. "Serious?" Moira nodded and Azazel pulled her close, crushing her to him. "You want baby?"

"I want your baby," she told him. "One more, to complete our family."

Azazel flipped them, landing Moira on her back with him over her. He leaned in, capturing her lips and holding them for a long kiss. "You complete my life," he told her. "Make me happiest man in world."

She kissed him back, seeing her feelings mirrored completely in his eyes. They had difficult times, but they loved each other. And there wasn't anyone else in the world she'd choose to spend her life with.

~&Q~

Getting pregnant with Christine had been a challenge, whereas getting pregnant with Cynthia had been a surprise. This time around seemed to be on the challenging side. They were trying for months before Moira's period finally failed to show up. However, she didn't have the same symptoms she was used to when pregnant, so she was concerned. They gave it another month and there was still nothing. She waited on any type of symptoms, and nothing came. While she didn't mind not being sick to the point of bedridden, it worried her what it could mean for the pregnancy. If that was what this was.

She decided a discreet visit to a local doctor could help. The test was positive. She was most definitely pregnant, though he had no answer as to why she had no symptoms. In the back of her mind, Moira wondered if it could mean her baby wasn't a mutant.

Azazel was overjoyed, and she shared his excitement. At three months in, she let her job know, and was hit with a few I-told-you-so's but mostly indifference. Since Cynthia, she'd lost many of her friends.

It was time to tell the children, and Moira and Azazel were excited to let them know they'd have a new sibling. They sat down their three, Moira marveling in how quickly they were growing up. Cynthia was nearly two at this point, speaking in stilted sentences, though her favorite was a simple 'No'. Kurt was no longer a little kid, almost nine years old and Christine was five. Where had the time gone? She smiled as she placed a hand on her stomach and her mind wandered to when this one would join his siblings. The perfect portrait in her mind of her family-to-be.

"We have important thing to tell," Azazel told the children, putting an arm around his wife.

Moira smiled at the three. "We're going to have another baby."

They children didn't respond right away. Cynthia was the first to say anything. "No!"

Azazel nodded. "Yes, Cyn. Little new baby brother or sister."

Christine jumped up. "Little baby! I want a baby sister again!"

"No, can it be a brother _please_?" Kurt begged. "I have enough sisters!"

"We don't know what it will be," Moira told them. "But we want you to have a brother, sweetie."

"New baby!" Christine ran from the room, excited. Cynthia groaned and followed after. "NO BABY."

Their parents watched them, then turned to their remaining child. "Isn't this exciting, angel?" Moira asked him.

Kurt shrugged. "I guess. If it's a brother," he told them. "Can he be blue too?"

Moira hedged a bit, looking to Azazel. The man sighed and turned to his son. "No. He cannot be blue."

"Why not?" Kurt's face screwed up. "Why do I gotta be the only one who's different in the family?"

"You're not the only one who's different," Moira took his hand. "I don't have a tail. I'm different too."

"No you're not," Kurt sighed. "You don't got a tail cause you're not mutant. I know about that."

She paused again, unsure of what to say. Kurt had been dropping small things here and there, questions and statements that Moira knew would lead to them discussing his parentage. Though she had no idea how to breach it. Azazel had made himself clear, that it wasn't to be discussed. But it wasn't fair, and the longer they kept it a secret, the more it would hurt him in the long run.

"Kurt," Moira started, without a single idea as to what the next words were that would come out.

"You are different, because you have different mother from Christine and Cynthia," Azazel swooped in, taking the moment. Moira was shocked, astounded that he had taken the initiative to tell him. She wasn't sure if the timing was right, though it was said. They had no choice but to deal with it.

His brow furrowed in confusion, and he looked between his parents. Suddenly his eyes were wide, tears starting to gather. He shook his head. "No….no….." his head snapped to Moira. "Mom?"

Her lip trembled a bit and she reached out and took his hand. "My love, I am so sorry we hadn't told you."

Kurt pulled his hand away and stood up. "You're _lying_," he yelled at them, tears streaming down his face. "You're lying and it's not funny!"

Moira was silent, and Azazel simply shook his head sadly. Kurt looked between both of them and then ran from the room, his bedroom door slamming. They could hear him sobbing from where they were. Moira turned to Azazel. "Was this the right time?"

"There is no right time," he told her. "But you were right. He deserved to know."

Moira stood and walked down the hall, opening the door to her oldest child. "Kurt, angel," she started.

"Please, Mommy," he turned to her, speaking through sobs. "It's not true, right? Please."

She sat on the bed and pulled him into her arms. "I found you when you were a tiny baby," she told him. "And I loved you the moment I saw you. I wanted to be your Mommy. So I adopted you."

Kurt shook his head, and Moira continued. "Just because you didn't come from me, darling, it doesn't mean anything. You're still my son and I still love you more than anything."

He hiccupped, holding on to her. "Is Daddy…" he trailed off as sobs began again.

"Daddy is your daddy," she told him. "You just came from a different woman." This was far more complicated than she felt she could explain. Moira just lifted his chin so she could meet his eyes. "The important thing here, Kurt, is that I love you. I didn't give birth to you, but I _am_ your mother."

Kurt shook his head and pulled away from her, burrowing under the covers. "I don't wanna talk any more."

Moira sighed but stood, understanding he'd need space to process this. "Alright angel," she said. Her own eyes began to tear as her heart broke for her little boy. "You come out when you're ready, ok? I love you."

He didn't respond and Moira left the room.

~&Q~

The family sat for dinner, Christine holding a baby doll which she described as her new sister. Cynthia was still disgruntled at the idea of a new baby but gave up on it once food was in front of her. As they sat, Moira looked to the empty chair. Kurt was not with them.

Azazel stood and called down the hall, and a few moments later their son appeared, taking a seat silently. He avoided both his parents' gaze, staring at his food and periodically pushing it around the plate.

"Eat, angel," Moira told him. "Daddy made it for you."

Kurt didn't respond, didn't even look up. He just kept pushing his food around.

"Kurt," Azazel chimed in. "Listen to your mother."

"She's not my mother," he responded, still not looking up. Azazel was about to respond, but Moira put her hand on his arm. He continued to play with his food before he pushed his plate away. "I don't want it anyway." Kurt jumped down from his chair and left the room.

"Kurt!" Azazel looked after him, and Moira squeezed his arm.

"Let him go," she said to him.

"He cannot disrespect you like that," Azazel replied angrily.

"He's in pain," Moira said with a sigh. "We have no idea what he must be going through. We just need to be supportive and," she looked to the other two children at the table. "And give him time."


	12. Chapter 12

Moira tried to give him space, but it was killing her to see him in so much pain. Normally such a sweet boy, he was cold, keeping to himself. He wouldn't play with his sisters, and it really bothered Christine. She didn't understand why her brother didn't like her all of a sudden.

Meanwhile, the pregnancy still progressed normally. She'd lost her worry over it and was simply grateful. At almost five months, she'd begun to show. Azazel was as affectionate as ever, protective and catering to her every whim.

Work was a different story. There had been some turnovers in her coworkers. She found herself having to answer all new friendly questions about herself and her family which she evaded as best she could. Part of her wondered if maybe it was time to find another job, though at the moment it didn't seem feasible to transfer when she was set to give birth in a few months. She decided to just ride it out and after the baby was born revisit her work situation.

As a whole, the family was operating as it always did. Except Kurt. At first, it was only her he was shying away from, but soon it was his father and sisters as well. She didn't know how to fix it. What was more worrisome to her was that his shying away was just accepted. She tried to involve him in things, but he did the actual opposite of anything she proposed. Azazel just wasn't trying to engage him at all after a while. It really bothered Moira, because she _couldn't _get close to him, and Azazel was _choosing _not to. She didn't understand and it felt like they were losing their son.

She sighed heavily as she sat on the couch, her hand on her stomach. Azazel looked over and placed a hand on hers. "Feel ok?"

"Yes," she told him. He had wrapped himself up in a television show, something so rare. He'd brought the television home just before Cynthia was born and the older two children had fallen into it, getting wrapped up in the cartoons. It was almost exclusively German, but they both were able to pick up a lot of the language just from the few things they watched. She'd forgotten what television was like, being away from it for so long, but enjoyed having it as a tie to the outside world. She could stay up to date with current events. While her children thrived on cartoons, and she was a news junkie, Azazel, incredibly, preferred sitcoms. It seemed atypical on the outside, but she understood it. He was someone who needed the lighthearted escape. She also was convinced he had a secret crush on Mary Tyler Moore, though he'd never admit it. Clearly, he had a type.

He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. Her son weighed heavily on her mind and was trying to find a way to broach the subject. The baby began to move, poking against her and Azazel's hand. The man smiled and rubbed gently. "My boy." The baby kicked again, as if in response. Azazel chuckled. "He is strong."

Moira smiled, then her brow knitted. "What about your other boy?"

He let out a breath. "What about?"

She shifted to sit up. "He needs you," she began. "And things just seem so distant. He won't speak to me."

"He will be over eventually," Azazel told her. "He is child."

"Alek," Moira regarded him seriously. "This isn't a tantrum. He has a right to his feelings, and he needs someone who will understand and stand by him. He won't let me be that person, why aren't you?"

Azazel shifted uncomfortably on the couch, not answering. "You are constantly with the girls," Moira continued. "What about your son?"

He shifted again, looking away from Moira shamefully. There was clearly something really going on here, but she wasn't going to let it slide. She wasn't going to let her son hurt alone. "What is it?"

"He," Azazel began then paused. "I do not feel like he is my son like I feel Christine and Cynthia are my daughters." Moira took a quick breath, unsure of how to respond to this admission. Azazel was quiet a moment longer, still avoiding her eye. "When I look at him, I see her. It kills me but I cannot move past it."

She felt a sudden heat come over her face and found herself moving without thought. She stood quickly, and her hand smacked across his cheek before she had a chance to process her feelings. His own hand went to his cheek, staring at her in disbelief.

"Move past it," she told him through gritted teeth. "That is your son. Your flesh and blood." She closed her eyes, breathing deeply through her nose. "You think I don't see the resemblance? _Of course_ I am aware how much he takes after her. And while I'd rather there were no reminder of her, when I look at him all I see is _my son_. My boy. What I see now is my child hurting and my husband letting him."

He shook his head. "Is not-" Azazel sighed. "I know I am wrong. I love him, Moira, of course I love him. I-" he trailed off, raking his fingers through his hair. "The girls, they come from us, are from both of us. There is nothing bad there, nothing secret or hard. Only love and happy. Kurt," he stopped, shaking his head.

"Kurt is the reason we have them," she told him rigidly. "He's the reason we are who we are. If all you can do is see the hardships that made him, rather than the amazing family he's the foundation for," Moira shook her head. What else was there to say? Her feet were beginning to hurt, and the baby was settling against her back. She put a hand to it and turned her eye on her husband. "You don't get to pick and choose. You are father to all my children or none of my children. One isn't going to suffer for things he can't control." She turned. "I'm going to bed. Figure out what you want to do about this."

~&Q~

She spent the night tossing and turning. The baby didn't give her much reprieve and the discussion with her husband weighed heavily on her mind. There were times she just felt she didn't know him. They'd been together almost a decade, but she was still surprised by him and not always in a good way. It seemed the things that trickled out the slowest were his vulnerabilities.

When she'd woken from the little bit of sleep she got, Azazel wasn't beside her. In fact, it was clear he hadn't come to bed at all. She pulled herself out of bed and headed into the other room.

"Mama!" Cynthia smiled upon seeing her, rushing to hug her legs. The girl wasn't always very affectionate, and Moira loved the moments she was. With a bit of difficulty, she lifted the girl into her arms.

"Good morning my love," she kissed the girl and Cynthia immediately squiggled to get down. Christine rushed to her next, holding a pastry in her hand.

"Daddy made us pop tarts today Mommy!" she told her excitedly. Moira quirked a brow. They didn't feed the children fast food like that, Azazel usually taking care of the cooking for the family. Her husband and son entered the room at that moment, both dressed for outside.

"What's going on?" she asked them.

Kurt looked away, but Azazel put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Am taking him camping," he told her. "Just for night. Have men time together before baby comes." Kurt still looked away from her, but he had a small smile on his face. This made Moira smile as well, turning back to her husband.

Azazel came up and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "You will be ok with girls, yes?"

She nodded. "Of course," she pulled Christine to her side. "We'll have so much fun, right beauty?"

The little girl nodded, munching away at her pop tart. Moira moved to her son's side, bending down to his level. The boy still avoided looking at her, but she didn't care in the moment. She pulled his coat in a bit tighter around him, making sure it'd keep him warm. "Be careful ok, angel?" she began. He didn't answer but she continued. "Stay warm and listen to Daddy." She pulled him into a tight hug, giving him a kiss on the cheek. He stayed still in her arms and she pulled away.

Azazel hefted a bag on his shoulder and moved to stand beside his son. Moira gave her husband a kiss then pulled away, eyeing him seriously. "Take good care of my baby."

Kurt huffed. "I am _not _a baby."

Moira smiled. It was the first time he'd spoken to her in weeks. She kissed Azazel again. "My boys," she looked between the two of them. "You two have fun."

He nodded and in an instant they were gone. Sometimes he really did surprise her.

"OW Get OFF!" Christine's voice was shrill and followed by Cynthia crying. As if hearing, the baby inside her began to turn. Moira sighed. It was only one night.

~&Q~

Another chapter down! I wanna thank all my reviewers, it's so nice to see a review after a few days at sea :). Quick plug, I have another fic "Rose Colored Glasses" which deals with Azazel's point of view throughout the course of this fic, as well as some of his backstory. Check it out!


	13. Chapter 13

The night with the girls was rather uneventful. Though, by the time dinner had come along Moira was absolutely exhausted, making simple peanut butter and jelly for the two of them. She got them bathed and into bed and for a moment felt a great appreciation for how well Azazel was taking care of their children. She mused, as well, on how backward their family was. Dad staying home with the kids while Mom worked. If her parents could see her now.

The boys were back in the late afternoon, Kurt proudly brandishing a fish. Whereas he was still cool with her, he showed it off to her and she praised him for it. Baby steps, she understood, were necessary here.

It was nice to have the family whole again, even if they'd been separated only one night. As Azazel took to preparing the fish for dinner, Moira decided to talk with her son.

"You did a good job," she told him, sitting on his bed as he arranged his things.

"Yeah," he responded.

Her heart ached and she wanted to hold him more than anything. She placed a hand on her stomach where the baby was poking, the new child, new son. Hopeful son, as they didn't know yet. She worried that if they didn't clear this up before the baby came, Kurt could feel pushed out. But she wasn't sure what could be said. "Did Daddy help you catch it?"

"No," he told her. "I did it by myself."

"Wow," she was legitimately surprised. It was no small feat, and she was proud of him. They sat in silence a while. At least he hadn't asked her to leave or left himself. After a few moments, his expression changed, as if he were wrestling with something in his head. "What is it, angel?" Moira moved so she was closer to him.

"I don't wanna be adopted," he told her, quietly. "I don't wanna not be your son."

"You _are _my son," she told him, placing a hand on his shoulder to turn him to face her. "Angel, nothing has changed. Absolutely nothing. I'm still your mother and I still love you more than anything."

"Daddy said," he paused. "Daddy said that the other woman couldn't be my Mommy. But you wanted to be my Mommy."

It wasn't a whole truth, but it was something. "Yes," she nodded.

"Who was the other woman though?" he asked, tears in his eyes. "Why couldn't she be my Mommy?"

"I don't know," Moira rubbed his head. "But she's not important, love."

He nodded, looking down. "I want you to be my Mommy."

"I am," she pulled him tight to her. "And I will be forever." He began to cry, but his arms stretched around her, holding to her tight. Moira began to rock with him, tears streaming down her cheeks. "It's alright, my baby. Shhhh, it's alright."

He sobbed a few moments, and finally calmed. They stayed in the embrace, Moira still rocking gently. "I love you so much."

Kurt nodded. As they stayed in that position, the baby began to move against her stomach, seeming to reach toward his brother. Kurt's head snapped up to look at his mother. "Is that the baby?"

Moira nodded with a smile. "That's your new baby brother or sister."

"Brother," Kurt told her, placing his hand on her stomach. He pushed a bit against the lump and it pushed back, making the boy laugh. "He's fighting with me!"

"He's playing," she told him, her smile widening as her son played with his sibling. After a few moments she began to feel tender and pulled away from him. "Let's let the baby rest."

"When he comes," Kurt started. "Me and Daddy can take him to the lake too and go fishing. I'll show him how to catch a big one. But not too big because he's smaller than me. I'll help him though."

Moira nodded and listened as Kurt listed the many things he couldn't wait to show his new brother. In her head she just hoped that she could give him one.

~&Q~

Her pregnancy seemed to be on fast forward. Things were going so well, or as well as could be expected. With Christine and Cynthia it had been torturous, but this time she was comfortable. As she reached her seventh month, she began to make preparations for the birth.

She had been spending a lot of time with a coworker, making sure they'd be well prepared to take her classes. Usually, she'd give them the minimum they'd need to get by, but she was instead getting them prepared completely. She'd now spent over three weeks just handing over every lesson plan and going over them in detail. Her coworker was grateful to have so much to use while Moira was gone, but what she kept from her job was that there was a likelihood she wouldn't return. The more she thought about it, the more she felt she'd let these people get too close. She'd been operating on the vibration of before, when they weren't on the run. Now, as she prepared to bring another child into the world, the fourth she'd have to protect, she felt a greater sense of responsibility. She'd take her time off until the baby was six months, as she had with Cynthia, then she would find a new job.

As she sat with her colleague, going over the latest lesson plan, she felt a sudden pain in her side. Her face scrunched up and she let out a breath, rubbing where the pain was.

"Are you ok?" the other woman asked.

"Yeah," she told her. Moira pushed slightly against where she'd felt the pain, feeling for the baby. Nothing happened. She shrugged it off, turning to her coworker with a small smile. "Just comes with the job. There's little comfort in pregnancy."

The woman smiled as well and they went back to the papers. A little while later, she felt it again, this time stronger. "Ahhh," she sighed out, her hand going to her side again.

"What is it?" her coworker turned her head to see Moira's side.

"I don't know," her brow knitted with worry. These didn't feel exactly like contractions, not ones she was used to. Her hands traveled over her abdomen again. The baby was settled, barely moving. Suddenly another hit her, this one harder than the other two. "Oh God," she squeezed her eyes shut and breathed through it.

"Are you going in to labor?" her coworker asked, eyes wide.

"No," Moira responded. "No, it's too early." Her mind traveled back to Christine's birth. As early as she was, she was still born in a reasonable time frame. This baby wasn't near there. She kept her hands on her abdomen as another huge cramp came over her. Her heart sank as she felt a wetness in her seat, sure it was her water breaking. As she stood, her face dropped at the blood that had gathered.

Her coworkers face went white. "We have to call the hospital. We have to get you to the hospital," she began to panic.

"No!" Moira stood, unsteadily, grasping tight at the table. "No, call my husband." Another pain came over her. Her legs began to shake as the energy in keeping her standing left her. "Don't call the hospital."

The other woman had run out of the room, and Moira collapsed to the floor. She heard her tittering to the others excitedly about hospitals. Moira's eyes began to tear as she begged the people entering to help her. "Call my husband," she told them. "Please."

"We'll get you help, Moira," one of them said as another dialed on the phone. She could hear them chatting to an emergency operator and Moira attempted to pull herself up. "No, please!"

"Stay still," one of her male coworkers held onto her. "Help will be here soon."

"Call my husband," she begged quietly, feeling her energy slipping away quickly. "Please don't send me to the hospital. Please…" she trailed off her eyes growing heavy.

"Oh God," another woman said. "She's still bleeding!"

"Please don't," she said in barely a whisper. "Please." Finally, her eyes closed and she was left at the whim of those around her.


	14. Chapter 14

She was first aware of a dim beeping. Her mouth was dry. She tried to open her eyes but her eyelids were incredibly heavy. She moved her head back and forth, taking a deep breath. A hand placed itself on her head, and she finally, wearily, opened her eyes.

The man sitting beside her was a stranger. He held onto her hand with one of his, his other in her hair. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, trying to pull her hand away but she was stopped by immense weakness. "Who.." she rasped, the dryness of her mouth making her cough.

"Shhh," he said. "Is me." Her husband's voice left the strangers mouth and she was incredibly confused. His hand left her hair to pull a chain out from inside his shirt. "Came in handy." He grabbed a glass of water, helping her to drink.

She recognized the image inducer, but was still confused. She couldn't imagine a single scenario in which Azazel would use something like that. Moira shifted, slowly bringing her hand to rub her eyes. "What's going on?"

Azazel looked to her sadly. "You are in hospital."

Moira shook her head. "I told them no. I told them to call you."

"They did," he said. "But they call hospital too."

She moved a bit, wincing in pain. "Where are the children?"

"With Margali," he told her.

Moira nodded, moving her hand back down her body, pausing as it felt over her abdomen. Her eyes grew wide. "Where's the baby?"

Her husband was quiet, looking away from her. Moira shook her head. "No…" she trailed off, blinking as tears fell from her eyes.

"He was too early," Azazel told her. "He did not make it."

"No," she told him. "My water didn't break. I wasn't in labor." Moira shook her head.

"He was sick," Azazel continued. "Even if he stayed in you, he would not make it."

"That's _not true_," Moira shouted at him. "He was _strong_. I _know_ he was."

"Moira," her husband began.

"You don't know," she met his eye fiercely. "I felt him, I know him. I-" she was cut off by a sob.

Azazel moved to her, putting his arms around her as she cried. She could feel his own tears against her as he held her close. Moira continued to shake her head. "He was strong." Her husband simply held on to her.

~&Q~

It had taken time for Moira to calm. A nurse had come in with needle, giving her an injection which calmed her down. She was in disbelief, absolute shock. She'd carried this child this long, to have him stripped from her. It didn't make sense. Everything pointed to a healthy baby, why had this happened?

Azazel was beside her through it. The hospital wasn't letting her leave any time soon. She found out that she'd been sedated four days. Upon finally coming to terms with the fact her child was dead, she was sent into another emotional tailspin when she found out he was gone. His body had already been dealt with, she couldn't even hold him. She felt robbed of this chance to say goodbye, and was angrier when she found out even Azazel had not had a chance to see him. She felt a massive betrayal by this institution, but also by her husband. Why hadn't he fought harder?

"I fought for you," he told her, when she voiced this. "You almost _died_ Moira. You were close. I almost-" he was cut off by a shuddering breath. "Am I to live my life without you? How? How can I? How can our children? Had to make choice."

She shook her head. "No."

"You say no, you don't know what it was," he told her. "They did so much to save you. Yet in same turn they tell me, prepare for worst. It was too much." Azazel paused. "You were almost dead. Baby was gone, Moira. No saving him. But you, I couldn't lose you too."

Moira frowned as she felt tears coming again. How had this happened? Everything was going so well. Her husband's hand closed over hers again. She turned to see a pained look on his face. There was something he wasn't telling her.

"What is it?" she asked him, unsure if she could take any more bad news.

"Moira," he began, but lost his words. She squeezed his hand.

"Please tell me."

Azazel closed his eyes. "You cannot have more children."

The idea of having another child was so far from her at the moment, that at first she was fine with it. But as the concept traveled into her mind, her eyes widened. "What are you talking about?"

"When they were working," he began. "There were complications. Damage, too much damage. They had to take it all out. You can't have any more babies."

Her head shook of it's own volition, then she turned and sobbed into the pillow. How much more could she take? She'd lost her baby and now she'd never have another. It seemed cruelly unfair. Her husband took her hand and squeezed it.

"Is ok, koroleva," he pulled her hand up and kissed it. "We get through this."

It was easy for him to say, she thought. He hadn't been violated in this way, stripped of something so integral. After losing this child, she wasn't sure she'd ever consider having another, but at least she could make that choice. Now, it had been taken from her.

It didn't make sense. _How _did this happen? She'd brought two children into this world under much harder circumstances and it had worked out. This pregnancy was easy, how could it have possibly had this end?

Her sorrow felt unending. How much could one person lose?

~&Q~

As always, reviews are appreciated!


	15. Chapter 15

It was days yet before they'd consider letting her out. She was sick of this hospital, sick of being in a place where she couldn't be with her family. Though she dreaded seeing her children again. They'd been so eager about the new baby. Moira felt like a complete failure, not being able to give them what was promised. She felt the hardest for her son, who was expecting a brother. How could she face them.

Azazel stayed by her side, his image induced self an odd comfort. She wanted to see _him_ to look into his eyes and be comforted by the man she married, not this subterfuge. Still, regardless of how he looked she wasn't sure anything would truly comfort her. She felt like a shell.

Finally they were allowed to leave, and there was something incredibly hollow about leaving without her baby. Azazel walked her out and around a side before teleporting back to the house. Materializing within the house, Azazel finally disengaged the image inducer and Moira could see him. His face belied his bereavement, the event seeming to add years. She held to him tightly a few moments while he guided her into the bedroom. All she wanted to do was curl up in bed.

He left her there, off to gather the children. She simply pulled the blankets up over her head, wishing to cut off from everything. A few moments later she could hear her children's voices, asking about her. Azazel dutifully told them Mommy was sleeping, that they could see her in the morning. She was grateful that he could read her so well.

He joined her in bed that evening but they were silent. She had nothing to say and no desire to try. He simply wrapped his arm around her and they slept. The next morning he was up early, getting the kids fed and back into some routine. Moira stayed where she was, wishing the day would move quickly. He came in with food periodically, but she left it. Nothing would fill the void within her.

Night fell again and he returned to bed. The next morning it started all over again. It went like this a few days, Moira staying where she was. They had not said more than five words to each other since coming home. She could hear the children asking about her, and her husband telling them she was not feeling well. She couldn't imagine spending any time with them, and felt immense guilt over it. They were everything she lived for, but she couldn't face them. Not after she'd lost their brother.

She burrowed further into the bed, hoping it would just swallow her. The door opened and she felt a weight on the bed. Moira turned away from it, pulling the blanket up further.

"The children want to see you," she heard her husband's voice, quiet and sad. It was not a voice she was used to, so timid.

Moira didn't answer. She felt the weight of his hand on her back. "Life has to continue, koroleva. Please."

She stiffened at his words. Without moving she whispered. "Not today."

She heard him sigh, and then the weight was removed, the door closing gently behind him.

~&Q~

Moira wasn't entirely sure how many days had passed. She'd eaten minimally, only left the bed to use the restroom and had yet to see her children. At one point, Cynthia had wandered in and tried to get her attention, though she stayed underneath her blanket. It broke her when the girl began to whine and cry, but Azazel came in and ushered her out, much to Moira's relief. It didn't stop her from sobbing for the next fifteen minutes.

Another day, she heard Christine giggling outside and pulled herself tighter into her cocoon, hoping the girl wouldn't come in. She didn't and Moira was left feeling more alone. Where she wished to not have to see the girl, part of her wished for her daughter to want to see her. The reasonable side of her brain reminded her, her daughter was not even six and had been instructed to leave her alone. She wasn't responsible for coming to her mother. Moira should have been the one to go to her, to be with her, as her mother. These thoughts sent her down another spiral and she found herself wishing she could just die. What use was she if she couldn't be mother to the children she had?

Hours later she had found some middle ground in her emotions. Azazel had brought dinner, but she left it again. She felt a new weight on the bed, one that clearly wasn't her husband. A small hand found her, pushing against her back.

"Mom?"

Her son's voice made her eyes tear. She laid still, not responding.

"Mom?" he asked again, shaking her a bit.

"Mom's sleeping," she whispered. "Go find Daddy."

Kurt sighed, then began to crawl around the bed. He must have found the end of the blanket, because he burrowed his way under it, curling up next to her. He put his hand on her shoulder, the skin to skin contact making her take a shuddering breath. "Mom," he whispered, pulling himself close to her. "It's ok Mom."

This was too much for her. She began to sob anew, the pain of everything weighing so heavily. On top of the pain, there was the guilt of her nine year old son having to take this role, having to comfort her where she should be comforting him. Moira turned to face him, and pulled him into a hug, holding him close to her as she cried. It was the first contact she'd had with anyone since leaving the hospital, and she felt that she didn't want to let go. There was another weight on the bed and Christine appeared under the covers, Moira reaching out to pull her into the hug. "My baby," she cried, her sobs continuing.

"Mommy," she sighed, melting into the hug. Moira's pain was palpable, her loss still staggering, but she was hit with the immense love she felt in this moment. The love for the children she had _here._ It would never end the pain for the child she lost, but she needed to focus on the ones she didn't. The gorgeous boy she gave her life to and the two amazing girls who's lives she gave. From the other side, she could feel the blanket lift and saw her youngest peeking in. Moira smiled, for the first time in what felt like too long. What she'd been through was impossible to get through on her own, but for the first time since it happened she realized she didn't have to.

~&Q~

For those of you wondering what happened at the hospital from Azazel's point of view, check out the latest chapter in Rose Colored Glasses.

As always, please review!


	16. Chapter 16

She made an effort to get out of bed, to be around her family more. Some days were still hard, and she found herself bedridden. Other days were easier. Her children and husband supported her along the way. Though she found where she was more and more at ease with her children, she still had a hard time talking with Azazel.

They'd share the same bed every night, yet words went unshared. Once in a while he'd roll over and put an arm around her, but she'd stiffen and he'd pull away.

"Please," he whispered finally, after too many nights like this. His voice was exasperated.

Moira closed her eyes sadly. She stayed silent.

"Moira, please," he moved closer to her, turning her to face him. She averted her gaze as best she could. "Look at me."

She did and the pain she saw in his face drove her further into depression. She felt such a guilt, did he deserve the way she was treating him? He'd lost his child too.

"I love you," he told her. "I want to fix this. Do anything to make it better. Please."

Her hands came up and covered her face. "I can't." Her feelings were so mixed, and she felt great shame about the way she was feeling. She didn't know how to even articulate it.

"Please," his voice was sad now, cracking slightly with emotion. "Our family is too important. Our children. We need to think of them."

"I am useless," she finally said through her hands. As she pulled them back, she looked into her husband's confused eyes.

"You are rock of family," he told her. "You make this family. Give me my daughters."

"You wanted a son," she told him. "I couldn't-" Moira paused. "You want a big family. You've always wanted a big family. I can't give you that." She took a shuddering breath. "I can't give you anything. I'm useless." It was the first time she was voicing her feelings about her infertility. Her whole life, her ability to have children was meaningless but it was because it existed. Now, she was shocked by how heavily it hit her. Were she not with Azazel, she doubted it would mean much, but he'd for so long expressed his wants for a big family, in the deepest part of her mind, she worried he would leave because she couldn't do it for him.

"Nyet," he shook his head. "I want family with _you._ Whatever family it is. Big or small. Sons or daughters. I want it with _you_. Is all that matters." He gathered her in his arms, holding her close as sobs overcame her. "Did not care about having family until I met you. Did not think I would. You change me, Moira, into something I never thought. Does not matter that we will have no more children. We have the three we were supposed to. And they are lights in my life. Thanks to you."

Her shame was still there. She wasn't sure how to respond, but Azazel pulled her close and lifted her chin so their eyes met. "Moira, this has been hard. So hard. To lose child," he stopped, choking up slightly. He gave it a second and cleared his throat to continue. "To lose child, and to lose everything else. Is impossible to heal from. Will take time, but we will. But now, right now, I need you to know that doesn't matter how long it takes. We will get through together. I will _never _leave you. Til death do us part, da?"

Moira finally found the strength to pull him to her, kissing him gently on the lips. Still without the words to really respond, she said the only thing she felt applied. "Thank you." As they cuddled together, Moira thanked everything that she had Azazel. As hard as things could be, and as much as they butted heads, there was no one she loved more, and she felt his love for her so thoroughly.


	17. Chapter 17

Slowly, things began to mend. Moira found herself with the emotional strength to put together a quick memorial for her lost child, something simple and sweet. Azazel bought her a necklace, with a birthstone for each of her three children, and a small diamond for the one they lost. She didn't want to forget, she was a mother to four, even if only three were with them.

She'd been called many times by her workplace, and got around to returning them. They expressed their condolences, as well as curiosity as to when she would return. Moira had no answer. She couldn't imagine going back yet. It seemed too soon.

They were patient with her at first, but started to become more demanding. Was she returning? Did they need to find a replacement? Moira didn't understand why they were so desperate to have her back. Granted, she knew they valued her, but she wasn't the only person who could do her job. With what she'd been through, she felt they should at least be patient.

Finally, she was hit with an ultimatum. Sadly, she had to decline returning. Her boss was angry, angrier than Moira would have anticipated. In her fragile state, their final conversation rocked her, and it infuriated Azazel. He had become overprotective of her since the incident, and while normally she would have already talked to him about backing off, she was enjoying his attention. She needed his support right now, more than ever before in her life.

A few days after the final conversation, her job called again. They asked her to come to the office to collect her things. Moira really never kept anything there, and there was nothing of value that she could think of that she absolutely had to collect. Not feeling like subjecting herself to what would surely be an uncomfortable situation, she declined. They were adamant, however, that she come. Rather than argue, she said she'd go, but had no intention of it. They could throw out the few pens and folders she'd left.

A week later they called again. She had to come down as soon as possible and get everything. Moira tried to brush it off, but they wouldn't take it. She was to come down that day. She told them she didn't want her things, they could dispose of them, but they said she had to come. Moira hung up the phone and left it. More and more she was becoming uncomfortable.

Another week passed and they called. They had her last check. She was to come collect it. Moira hedged on this. The family could use that check, but she now felt uncomfortable with how this was happening. She decided to discuss it with her husband.

"I will go," Azazel said to her.

Moira shook her head. "You can't go."

"I can. I have inducer," he responded. "I will go and it will be end. I will tell them never call again. They will listen to me."

The healing part of her was ready to argue with him, 'I don't need you fighting my battles' on the tip of her tongue. But the damaged part of her was stronger and didn't want to fight it. "Can they ship it? I don't see why they can't just send it."

His brow raised. "And you give them address? No. This is not good situation. Do not know why they are being like this, but they will not know where you live. Not come to my home to harass my wife."

"Alek," she sighed. She just wanted to part from these people as peacefully as possible. On another note, her husband's willingness to use the image inducer confused her. He'd been so against it from the get go, now he seemed to have no problem using it.

"No," he told her firmly. "No arguing, Moira. I protect my family. I go there and make clear. They do not do this to you."

She sighed again. "Alright. Just, please don't do anything rash. They've been good to me up until now."

He raised a brow. "I remember other job that was good to you until it wasn't."

"This isn't that at _all,_" she responded. Though she found she had little else to say. So much had changed at her job, she really only had two people who had been there since she started. Moira moved close to him and put her arms around his shoulders. "Be careful. Just get the check and come home."

He gave her a kiss. "Of course."

~&Q~

He wasn't gone long. Moira looked up from the couch, where she sat with her daughters. Christine jumped up and ran over to Azazel. "Daddy's home!"

He smiled at her and picked her up, giving the girl a kiss on the cheek then lowering her to the floor. Christine ran back to where she'd been sitting and her attention was back on the television.

Something about his expression was off. "What happened?"

"We can talk in kitchen," he said, heading into the other room. Moira shifted Cynthia from her lap to the couch, the girl barely noticing her mother was leaving.

"What is it?" Moira asked him.

"Something not right," he responded. "I do not know what. But it feels wrong."

"Did you get the check?"

"Nyet," he told her. "Would not give to me. Said _you_ have to come get." Azazel furrowed his brow. "How much is check for? Is important?"

"Well, any bit of money is important, Alek," she said. "Our funds are limited. The kids will need new clothes soon, and Cynthia needs shoes."

"I take job," he waved his hand. "We not need check."

Moira bit her lip. "What happened?"

Azazel shrugged. "Said because I was not you I could not have check. They saw me, once, when I came to you in hospital. They know my face… well, fake face. But would not give. I tell them not to call _ever _again."

She nodded. "Ok."

He grabbed her hand absently. "We let this go. Something-" Azazel paused. "Just have bad feeling. I will find us money."


End file.
